


The Fairies (i.e Satanic Bitches)

by orphan_account



Series: The Telepath's Immortal [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternative Universe - Telepathy, Angst, Astral Projection, Episode: s01e05 Small Worlds, Fairies, Fluff, Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato Friendship, Identity Reveal, Jack Being an Idiot, Jack being Jack, M/M, Protective Jack, Protective Owen, Protective Toshiko, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-21 11:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10684149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It still stung to see Jack on the daily, a painful reminder every moment that Jack only had eyes for Gwen, but it was a good sort of stinging - it reminded Ianto every day that he was alive and even if Jack would never love him, they were on their way to Jack trusting him, actually trusting him!As per usual, something fucks up Ianto's day and if he ended up choking on too hot coffee, or rose petals, or bloody rainwater one more time, he might just kill the fairies himself, truce be damned.Ianto doesn't.He wasn't quite sure yet if it was the best of decisions.





	1. Estelle Cole is a Magical Goddess (and if you don't love her then you can fuck right off)

**Author's Note:**

> Eliona (who's one of my favourite commenters, they're so sweet) gave me the term 'The Ultimate League of Protective!Friends of Ianto Jones' and I adore it and I'm keeping it and it's mine now, haha
> 
> Also, if you haven't seen it yet, they made an amazing fanvid of Ianto which is so on point and cool, you need to watch it:  
> https://youtu.be/CZJMvgrSO88
> 
> Again, I'm experimenting with some shorter chapters, but they'll hopefully come out quicker - look forward to a bunch more Janto moments in this and possibly the Trio™ (Tosh, Ianto and Owen) bonding either after this or a lil sneaky fic in the middle of writing this, idk, idk
> 
> this got super long, jesus
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: I've changed the lengths of these chapters and put lots of chapters in the same part, so a lot of the notes don't fit anymore and a lot of comments have been deleted. I'm sorry if that causes any issues, I just preferred it to have longer chapters.

Ianto drifted through the trees like a spectre as he dreamt; Round Stone Wood wasn’t entirely new for him, and he recognised the tall forest rather quickly, despite only having been there a few times (and never having the need to visit as an astral projection). As he floated languidly, he wondered, unconcerned, who or what had dragged him there.

Eventually, the dark, luscious green leaves gave way to reveal an innocently creeping woman; she wasn’t young but seemed active and fit. Half of the wrinkles on her face - which was small and compressed but charmingly and anciently elegant - were from her bright, friendly smile which Ianto had been blessed to see more than a few times.

‘Estelle,’ his mind supplied helpfully, finally registering the motherly figure that he was seeing.

It was a dark night, and even with the moon filtering lazily in through the tree branches so Estelle couldn’t have seen where she was going properly. Nevertheless, she navigated through the forest easily, as if it were her second home.

The rustling in the thick pine trees, and the buzz of nightlife in insectile villages nearly covered the quiet murmuring of Estelle’s pleasant voice as she whispered into her dictaphone Her voice was shaking but Ianto registered it as excitement rather than trepidation - although the quick, halting movements of Estelle's feet might have hinted at something differently. She continued on though, and Ianto swam through the air afterwards, watching and waiting as Estelle crushed the dry grass and leaves under her unintentionally heavy march.

Soon, Ianto caught onto the acidic, burning smell that confirmed his suspicions. The scent hid between the natural, refreshing pine and the saltiness of the Cardiff breeze rolling in from the sea and then hid again underneath the much less natural, perfumed, sickeningly sweet smell of roses.

Yes, Estelle was seeing the fairies; actively searching them out and Ianto had no idea how to feel about that. He resolved to simply stay in the shadows, despite knowing Estelle couldn't see him and chose to not interfere. Estelle wasn’t in danger quite yet.

“I have to move carefully. Don’t want to frighten them. Now I’m there,” Estelle mumbled into her dictaphone, barely moving her lips, as mute as a bird watcher. The recording device was bulky and unattractive, but Estelle had never trusted the new ones on the market.

The elder paused, hiding behind a low-hanging tree branch and viewed the scene before her, eyes widening in rapture. Gasping quietly, with hesitation, in such a way that Ianto knew Estelle subconsciously thought if she breathed too loud she’d scare off the fairies.

Speaking of fairies… A set of jagged stones lay in a circle of sorts in front of them. Parts of the dirty-grey stone were smooth and others harshly pointed, like it had been stolen from the core, the very centre of the Earth and carved lovingly by Mother Nature to appease the tiny creatures currently frolicking between them.

They glowed, bright white, with tints of blue in their dainty, translucent wings - despite their outward appearance, Ianto recognised a great power that could have been unleashed with every beating of the fairies’ arched wings. Unable to stop himself, Ianto felt a begrudging respect for the fairies, although they had done so much to harm his kind, mixed with an understandable amount of terror.

Trailing behind the fairies were wisps of sharp blue, too close in shade to Ianto’s real eyes for him to not feel uncomfortable seeing it. Estelle’s grin was almost audible, the wizened woman making pleased little hums as the camera shutter clicked once, twice, three times. Just as Estelle was about to capture another photograph on her aged camera, the fairies seemed to line up in a protective barrier, starring Estelle down.

An uneasy feeling in chest stirred up his oesophagus, matching the new, unpleasantly metallic taste on the tip of Ianto’s tongue. Burning copper slid down his throat, horrendously unusual until Ianto recognised the taste as blood, dripping from his lips to pool in his mouth and trail down his chin. Evidently, he’d bitten through his lip away from the dreamworld Ianto had been trapped in. Minty freshness from the mouthwash that his dentist insisted he use on the daily (which always stayed behind, clinging to Ianto’s teeth for much longer than strictly necessary and usually ruined his morning coffee) mixed with the blood. Arguably, there were much better duos than the crimson liquid iron and the overpowering mouthwash from the night before.

Pushing the thought of toothpaste out of his mind, Ianto refocused on the fairies and Estelle, still securely hidden in the foliage. The spellbound smile had dropped from her face and she stood as if transfixed by the potentially dangerous creatures in front of her. Tempting fate, Estelle almost stumbled forward, but caught herself, the enamoured beam back on her pale face.

With one last glance at the fairies, Estelle retreated, and that’s when the fairies finally morphed into the form of them that Ianto knew best. Their form elongated, ribs poking out precariously against their waxy skin, matching the disgusting skinniness of their other tense limbs. Sagging skin hung low on the creature’s neck, which led up to a horrifying, goblin-esque face, snarling at Estelle’s departing form.

Cackling, their voices like those of children, the fairies chased each other away, screaming their apparent glee to the night air as they danced away. Ianto awoke, gasping - it was becoming an almost natural occurrence, at this point - choking on his own blood, with a single, devastating thought on his mind.

The fairies had a new Chosen One.

 

* * *

 

Ianto had been staying with Tosh for little over a week now; his living situations had certainly changed quite a lot over the past three weeks of his grievance leave. Staying with Owen for the first five days had solely been so that the medic could care for him (and find out everything he could about the Gifted community, mainly from Tosh, after Ianto gave her consent. Still, he was as much in the dark as she and Ianto reckoned he wouldn’t be seeing the light for a long while).

Once that short period had finished, he’d moved back into his own house, wearily greeted the neighbours (Aiden, an adorable three-year-old who lived next door with her two wonderful mothers, seemed especially excited to see him, and Ianto had mistakenly offered to take care of the youngster for a few hours whilst Emily and Lisa went shopping. The child, as lovely as she was, was a handful, to say the least, but Ianto had finally been granted ‘uncle’ status in her funny little mind).

After spending two days passed out in bed, and then another three days in a constant state of ‘no’ - which consisted of not eating, barely drinking (unless it was vodka, but after the hangover from hell after the first day, he’d resolved to just plain water) and sitting alone in various places contemplating his lonely existence - Toshiko had infiltrated his safe haven and insisted that he move in with her, even for a short while.

How she managed to convince Jack to let her stay with him was beyond Ianto - although he’d had numerous, increasingly heartfelt apologies from Jack, and the slight awkward tension (understandable given the fact Jack had murdered his friend, despite the fact it was Ianto who pulled the trigger) had defused, Ianto still didn’t believe Jack would ever trust him again. The idea that Jack could respect him, like him even, was as unattainable to him as… God, he didn’t even know. Willingly losing his Gift?

Anyways, Jack wasn’t on the market, he was besotted with Gwen and Ianto was doomed to be forever alone, etc. etc. That didn’t explain anything to Tosh, who was staring him down over a cup of his own coffee, her lips tightly pursed as she read through his thoughts (it was his own fault, given he’d left his mental walls completely down, too tired to rebuild them properly after Lisa had demolished them).

“So, is it like astral projection or something? How does it work? Can you do it automatically, or do you focus on it, or do you have no control? Oh, or-”

Ianto stopped her rambling with a Look. However, she seemed unabashed, grinning cheekily at the exasperated telepath. Logically, he knew that she was trying to get his mind off the entire ‘Jack Conundrum™’, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

“It’s not quite like that - Estelle had already gone through seeing the fairies, I was just reading the memories from her. I wasn’t actually there, but it’s how Gifteds are trained to understand it, to ensure we don’t freak out in someone else’s memories and mess them up. One Gifted boy I knew tried it on someone - they didn’t know each other - and she was left with early onset dementia,” Ianto answered, fiddling idly with the handle of his mug of incredibly strong coffee.

“You can actually do that? Read people’s past thoughts? And Demetae trained you to be able to...is it just for Gifteds, then, or could humans learn?” Tosh bombarded him with questions, but the last one really caught Ianto’s attentions. A quick delve into Tosh’s mind confirmed that, no, she didn’t want the ability. In fact, she wanted to make sure no-one else could use it - to keep Ianto and the rest of the team, her friends and family, safe. It made Ianto adore her even more.

“I could only read them during sleep and it usually only goes back a few hours. My Gift only latches onto those with poor mental security, or if I focus on them too much. Or, like with Estelle, if they invite me in. She was excited about seeing the fairies and she wanted to show someone who wouldn’t judge her for it. Subconsciously, she chose me and opened up her mental walls - which really are quite stunning - and allowed me access to her memories.”

 Nodding, Toshiko leant back, mulling over what Ianto had told her. A frisson of excitement shot through her body, swiftly followed by pride and an innocent, quite child elation. Just as she was about to lean forward once more and interrogate him, Ianto let out a choked gasp; an unaccountable burst of terror had shaken his heart for an instant, before bleeding out into a steady but still scorching river of fear. Second-hand images, Jack in a green-grey army uniform, sunlight filtering in between panels of weak wood - the blaring of a train’s whistle. His eyes holding a certain spark, a youth in them that Ianto hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. Horror, racing through his veins.

His friends - but no, not his friends, Jack’s - lying, sprawled. Dead. A classically handsome blonde man, his head lolling to the side. He would have been attractive if not for the rose petals bulging in his mouth, the dark grey veins around his eyes and lips, marks of suffocation along with the blue tinge to the soldier’s cheeks. The taste of too-sweet roses in Jack’s mouth - memories, a nightmare.

Ianto startled out of his daydream because of Jack suddenly jolting awake, a rush of understanding racing through him - of course, Jack would already have dealings with the fairies. Would that make it harder or easier to deter the selfless American to not try and save whichever child the fairies were stealing away?

“Ianto? Ianto!”

Coming fully to himself, Ianto bolted up, grabbing his coat from the back of Tosh’s sofa, choosing to walk the short distance to work; he needed the fresh air and the thinking time anyways. Tosh grabbed him just as he was leaving, her face confused but forgiving. “Take care of yourself, okay? And when you get home tonight, I want you to tell me about why you’re so scared of the fairies - I can feel your emotions Ianto. Don’t try to hide it from me, okay?”

With a small smile, Ianto nodded, hugging Tosh loosely with one arm before opening the front door and stepping into the cold morning.

 

* * *

 

 

When Jack woke up from his nightmare, he lay in bed for a few long, dragging moments - facing the world seemed too much. Rose petals painted the inside of his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes and attempted to grasp sleep once more, so Jack soon gave up, glancing at his watch and sighing at how early it was. The rest of the team wouldn’t be here for at least an hour, and Jack would be left to wallow in his own memories.

Carelessly throwing on a plain shirt, Jack tried to distance himself from the dream of his men choking on flowers. Inexplicably, a slow ember of comfort lit in his stomach, a feeling that was, unfortunately, foreign; Jack was instantly suspicious but baulked at the sight of lone petal on his desk. His eyes burned unshed tears, for his men, his friends.

Breathing out a slow, calming breath, Jack ran his hand through his unruly mane of hair, considered combing it for a moment - he always had to look the best for his team - before whirling around, interrupted by the noise of flicking papers and pacing steps. Jack absently pocketed the rose petal, his hand itching instead for his gun.

Ianto - sweet, selfless, sacrificing Ianto - had an undistinguished, murky brown file in his hands, skimming through the pages with a slightly pained, concerned look on his face. Sighing, Jack studied him for a moment, glad that the younger man hadn’t noticed him yet so that he could drink his fill of Ianto’s pretty frame (‘This really isn’t fair,’ Jack berated himself. ‘You can’t be pining after him one day and hurting him the next, he doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t care about you.’)

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jack murmured softly, smiling slightly when Ianto’s head snapped up to look at him. It was partly true; yes, Ianto’s grievance leave (and oh, did it sting to call it that) had ended a few days ago and he’d been working ever since, refusing to stay away from the mindless drone of the Hub that comforted him so often any longer. “Doctor’s orders.”

Okay, so Jack may have been telling a small lie. He didn’t want Ianto straining himself, didn’t want him to have to look his friend’s killer in the eye, and had attempted to make Owen tell Ianto that himself, using the excuse of medical grounds to give Ianto more time off. It was Jack’s own strange little way of trying to say that he cared, but obviously, he knew nothing about the restless telepath before him.

Owen hadn’t taken him up on the suggestion. “Ianto needs to throw himself into his work right now; it’s the only way me and Tosh even think he’ll make it through this time,” the standoffish medic had told him. Jack was both perturbed and glad that Owen and Ianto had grown so close, but his jealous streak kept acting up, especially after the words ‘this time’. How many times, exactly, had there been that Owen was involved with?

“Neither should you. And Owen hasn’t told me anything about staying off longer and I’m fairly certain you’re not a qualified doctor, so I’ll take the orders and treat them as bullshit, thanks,” Ianto shot back, but Jack knew from the way the tired man’s hackles stayed firmly down that there was no true heat behind his words.

“Rough night?”

“Mmhmm,” was the nondescript, hummed reply before Ianto strode off to his computer, tapping loudly on it for a few seconds. Jack, not quite ready to give up yet, pulled a chair up and sat backwards on it, facing head on towards his Archiver. The other man stiffened the tiniest amount, still tense whenever he saw Jack, but thankfully relaxed again once more with a swift, almost not even there glance at the immortal.

“Why are you here, Ianto?” Jack mumbled, not expecting an answer, and certainly not the rapid-fire one that Ianto hurled back, no emotion readily apparent in his words unless Jack dug deeper behind the slightly shaking tone of the telepath.

“Had a dream that you died,” Ianto said, and immediately, he regretted it. No, he hadn’t dreamt of Jack’s death that night, but he had before - ever since he felt Jack’s body drop down, lifeless when Suzie was revealed to be a murderer, he couldn’t stop the nightmares. Now, they mainly consisted of Lisa killing the immortal, or Lisa killing Ianto. Or Ianto killing Jack, holding Jack in his arms whilst the other gasped his last breath, dying still as Ianto’s unrequited love. It didn’t matter that Ianto knew what he did, he still dreamt that one day Jack wouldn’t just snap back alive.

“Ianto…” Jack started, but Ianto shook his head fervently, cutting off his words. “Forget I said that.” Jack’s irked exhale was just that side of a groan, and Ianto felt almost guilty hearing it. Leaning back the smallest amount, Jack scrutinised the closed off telepath with a thoughtful expression, eyebrows furrowed with concern (that Ianto simply picked up as annoyance, the only emotion from Jack he seemed to register anymore).

“I’m sorry about Lisa,” he chose to say instead, wanting so desperately to make things right between them. Ianto suddenly became pliant, sagging under the hand Jack had rested on his once-tense shoulders.

“I know. You keep telling me that.”

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have made you-” Jack began, his voice brimming with everything that he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t risk saying on the tip of his tongue, fighting to get out. Ianto’s gaze softened and he turned away from the computer to actually face Jack, although he didn’t look him in the eye, focusing instead on a spot on Jack’s shoulder.

“Lisa- she… Whatever I killed, whatever you made me kill, it wasn’t my friend anymore. The team was, the team is more important than her. You don’t have to keep apologising for keeping us safe,” Ianto mumbled, his voice unusually soft for the Gifted. Licking his cracked lips absently, Ianto turned his scrutiny further up Jack’s body, still only staring at the man’s strong neck, but closer to meeting Jack’s eyes. It was funny - he’d never had this trouble before (except, yes, yes he had).

“Er, T-Tosh said that you visited. The first few days when I was asleep.”

Jack hummed, resting his arms on the back of the desk chair and leaning over them, bringing his eye line down and forcing Ianto to meet his hypnotising gaze. Fidgeting, Ianto looked mildly uncomfortable for a few drawn out seconds, before he seemed to submit to the staring contest. Unsurprisingly, Jack won, Ianto glancing away with a dark blush staining his cheeks when the immortal smiled genuinely and started speaking again.

“I didn’t want for you to wake up alone. It was nice to see you look so peaceful,” Jack murmured, like he believed if he stayed whispering, the words wouldn’t hold as much weight to them - that the new dynamic between the pair, with no barriers that the rest of the team presented, wouldn’t be so tangible to lose.

“Yeah, well, it was kind of you. It was good not to...wake up alone,” Ianto grinned shyly, turning back to his computer. Jack was content to watch him for a few minutes until the smile slid off his face as he worried his bitten lip between his teeth.

“What do we have this time?” Jack asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful, but ultimately failing given the knowing look Ianto briefly sent his way. With the relaxed, rather fulfilling conversation that morning, Jack had all but forgotten about the upcoming threat of the fairies.

“Funny sort of weather patterns,” Ianto answered, not pressing any further despite Jack knowing that he must want to. Appreciating the gesture, Jack’s hand slid up from Ianto’s forearm to gently, soothingly stroke at the telepath’s knotted, unknowingly tense shoulder. It was all Ianto could do to not imagine fewer layers of clothing between them, craving Jack’s electric touch on his bare skin, his real skin too, not just the human body shield he hid behind.

Jack became lost in his own thoughts, distractedly keeping his long, calloused fingers on Ianto’s shoulder, watching Ianto’s own slender digits blur across the keyboard. A few minutes passed in that comfortable state of silence, as Jack mulled over how he would deal with the fairies and still keep his team, Tosh, Owen, Gwen, and Ianto - gorgeous, darling, incredible (‘Too much, Harkness, you’ll scare the poor boy off,’ he chastised) Ianto - safe.

The small smile gracing Ianto’s soft, full, pink lips had Jack grinning dumbly in turn - he felt like a schoolgirl in love, and it was a strangely addictive feeling. Before he did something stupid like kiss Ianto, and oh, that would have felt so good, to be able to slowly draw Ianto’s lips into his own, nip them gently, make them red and kiss-bitten and pleasantly tingling, the other man seemed to spook.

Ianto’s shoulder jolted suddenly underneath his palm, and Jack straightened up, concern etched upon his features. The telepath was licking his lips, a nervous habit, Jack had surmised. Noticing his change in demeanour, Ianto turned to him, answering the unspoken question in Jack’s searching eyes and the hand that slowly crept up from his shoulder to secure around the back of his neck, fingers barely brushing Ianto’s bare skin.

“Nothing - I...I-I’m fine, it’s just, er, getting late. The rest of the team will be here soon,” Ianto half-mumbled, half-choked out, the message of ‘careful what you wish for’ received loud and clear in the form of the stir of slight arousal in his lower stomach because of Jack’s touch. It didn’t help that Ianto suddenly imagined Jack gripping tighter, not in a murderous sort of way, but more in a lovingly kinky manner, cutting off Ianto’s air whilst he fucked harshly, deeply into Ianto. (Yeah, that really didn’t help at all).

Jack glanced down, realising both the time and his hand around Ianto’s neck; he mistook the glazed look in Ianto’s eyes as fear (which the Gifted was unsure if he was pleased or upset by) and released him with a small, heartfelt apology, his eyes speaking words of self-deprecation that his lips could not. ‘Ianto will never trust you if you can’t even stop yourself from suffocating him,’ Jack castigated.

Nodding quickly, Jack stood up gracelessly, almost falling over his own feet as he stumbled away, clumsily explaining as he went. “Right, yes, yes! Excellent point, I will go get- get dressed, you, er, okay, I’m gonna go-” he stuttered out at the same time Ianto awkwardly alluded something about making coffee.

Blushing, Jack climbed back down into his bunker, almost giggling giddily at how fumbling the innocent little Archiver could make him, before then beating himself up for being too forward. Jack was almost grateful for the distraction of the fairies to distance himself from Ianto.

Almost.


	2. Ianto Jones Opens Up™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapter titles honestly just keep getting more dumb, i stg
> 
> also, holy crap, two updates in two days, are y'all feeling blessed or what (my fingers and my brain hurt so bad, lmao)

“What exactly are we doing here?” Gwen asked, her brittle Welsh accent grating against Jack’s eardrum. The woman was all smiles, had been since Jack had drove out, but Jack struggled to return her grins, wishing her accent would soften a bit more, deepen and lilt so that she sounded like Ianto; his obsession was worsening. He could lose it with Gwen, lose the obsession, and then he wouldn’t invest so much time worrying if he was hurting Ianto.

Jack shook the thought from his mind, upset that he’d even think about using Gwen like that, treating her as a consolation prize. And, if what Owen and Tosh had told him served to be true, he could hurt Ianto (who was supposedly pining and falling in love just as hard as Jack) as well.

“Jack?” Gwen repeated, her tone just the other side of annoyed and put upon.

“Hmm? Oh, I got an invitation from an old friend,” Jack tried to reply quickly, his cheeks pinkening in a way he hoped could be concealed by the cold wind. He needed to get his mind off Ianto and onto the fairies. Which, coincidentally (that was a lie, it wasn’t a coincidence), was why Jack had dragged Gwen along to sweet Estelle’s lecture on the creatures.

As they neared closer, Gwen spotted the advertisement pasted on the front door. “Fairies, are you kiddin’ me?” Jack needed that, needed that disbelief, the incredulity, he needed someone who would challenge why they were with Jack in the first place. It was the main reason Jack brought Gwen along - so that the woman wouldn’t believe that fairies truly existed, so that she’d have more reason to drop the case.

They entered as quietly as possible, but Estelle still paused, grin widening as Jack waved quite cheekily towards his past lover.

But when Gwen’s eyes landed on Estelle and Jack’s fond smile, flickering back and forth with an air, first of confusion, then surprise, happiness, and as the truth dawned on her, jealousy (really, what did she expect from someone over a century old), Jack mused that maybe this was a mistake.

They took their seats and watched as Estelle began her lecture, her arms waving about with barely contained excitement, eyes gleaming as she talked about the Mara, pointing every so often at the projector which showcased her favourite photographs of the creatures, a child beaming with ‘fairies’ dancing throughout the picture.

Gwen rolled her eyes as Estelle fiddled, switching the projected image to her own blurry photographs. With a barely concealed smirk, she leant forward to whisper in Jack’s ear a disdainful remark about the elder woman, but the immortal unconsciously turned away, concerned as he studied Estelle’s photographs.

“This is my first picture. Not that clear I know, but the ring of stones can be seen quite distinctly.”

‘So, it’s true then. The fairies must be back,’ Jack thought, not registering Gwen trying to get his attention.

Annoyed, Gwen huffed out a small breath; if Jack didn’t want to talk, why did he ask specifically for her company? Cynically, she muttered, “I don’t believe this,’ and became even more irritated when Jack blatantly shushed her. She felt the urge to stomp her feet like a child, and wondered if it would make her feel any better.

The picture changed again, and trying a different approach, Gwen stared seriously up at Jack, fighting a (fake) smile that she hoped would seem charming. Only, Jack didn’t look down at her, his attentive reserved for just Estelle as he smiled indulgently at the enchanting fanatic.

“I was so lucky to have seen them, so privileged to witness such a magical moment because fairies are shy you see, but I know in my heart that they are friendly, loving creatures,” Estelle said, her smile small and affectionate. Gwen huffed out a sceptical laugh. ‘Of course fairies are ‘shy’, it’s because they’re not bloody real.’

But Jack was still shaking his head, scared in the blind trust she put in the Mara. The lights flared back up as members of the audience came up to speak to Estelle, Gwen clapping loudly in a last ditch effort to grab Jack’s gaze. It didn’t work.

“Wrong, she always gets it wrong,” he murmured worriedly, pulling out his phone in a hurry to text Ianto. Half of the reason was to actually get information, to forewarn the team of the meeting that he was holding, and half of it was simply to be able to contact Ianto again, to try and heal the frayed bonds of their relationship.

 

* * *

 

‘Can you do some research on fairies for me? It has something to do with our unusual weather patterns. Thanks   
\- Jack’.

Ianto grinned slightly as he typed out a quick reply, cheeks burning because, God, did this mean Jack trusted him again? It was an addictive feeling, the bubbling of butterflies in his stomach as he risked his heart by simply allowing the feelings.

“Ooh, what has you happy, Tea Boy?” Owen snarked as he walked past, empty, coffee-stained mug in his left hand. Ianto glanced up, blushing bright as both Toshiko and Owen hooted, the former glancing up from the program she was working on to see Ianto’s burning red cheeks.

Relenting, Owen passed Ianto’s desk with a smirk, as if he knew what Ianto was going through, heading to rinse out the mug proudly proclaiming him as ‘World’s Best Doctor’ in bold red lettering. Grinning honestly, Tosh leant forward slightly to scrutinise Ianto through the gap between their computers, whilst Ianto started on the research, informing Tosh with a few polite words.

Sighing loudly, Tosh tapped Ianto’s arm, who paused in his quest through the digitized version of the Archives downstairs. He already had a few tabs open which he found could help in the meeting. “Sooo…” Tosh began, her voice lilting with an imaginary question mark. There was a knowing smirk behind her pleasant grin, and a deadly insinuation on the tip of the tech’s tongue. It was time...for girl talk.

“So what?” Ianto shot back, trying to appear as stony as possible to avoid Tosh’s questioning. The Asian woman was undeterred, and playfully grabbed Ianto’s forearm, the same one Jack had that morning.

Pulling away, she gasped with elation. “You did talk to Jack! How did it go? Obviously pretty well, but give me all the juicy details, Yan,” Tosh hissed, her lips curling upwards at Ianto’s confused expression. The telepath began to stutter, perplexed at how Tosh knew even the smallest thing about his conversation with the captain in those early hours of dawn.

“Oh, that. Well, I just so happen to perhaps have honed my own skills in reading your emotions, Ianto. I’ll never be anywhere near as good as any Gifted, but because you left your mind open to me and because you always share things through our Link, I figured the sifting through someone’s thoughts part might be a mutual thing. I picked up on some of the many emotions you have for Jack right now, just by focussing on it! Isn’t it so cool?”

“You, clover, are absolutely incredible. I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before, you’re one of a kind, really,” Ianto praised, still befuddled, but content to let the confusion stay on his mind for now. At Tosh’s silent probing with her dark, doey eyes, Ianto groaned, and capitulated.

“The talk was unplanned but it did go quite nicely. Jack and I talked, he said sorry about Lisa again and I told him that the team was more important than her. And, er, that I knew about his visits, too. Considering the rather bleak start to my morning, I wasn’t expecting something so lovely- argh, ugh, shit. S-S-Shit!”

Ianto stood up suddenly, his head pounding for a second, like a constant drilling or hammering against his temples, before dying down. Hopeful, he went to speak to Tosh, believing the worst to finally be over, but realised that no, he couldn’t quite get the words out.

A sharp ragged breath was torn from his throat, and as he dropped to the ground, he heard Tosh shouting frantically for Owen, her voice distant and fuzzy in his hazy mind. Noticing the edges of his vision gaining dark blackness, Ianto struggled to stand up, to release the harsh pressure on his trachea and the burning bonfire in his lungs.

Desperately, Ianto clawed at his throat. Despite the pain, he thrashed and bucked under Owen’s sudden hold on his shoulders, pressing him down, his fingers like tendrils on Ianto’s shoulders, erasing the warm feeling of Jack’s fingers on the same spot that morning.

“I-I-I...t-the fairies, I can’t breathe-” Ianto struggled out, barely registering Owen’s panic in the back of his mind. The room was spinning as Ianto twitched, Owen and Toshiko’s equally worried faces spiraling in and and out of view. Ianto’s entire body sagged weakly against the dusty, hard, uncomfortable floor as the desperation to breathe took over.

And just as suddenly as it had come, the tight hold on his windpipe, the iron grip on his lungs that caused his eyes to bulge, were gone.

Gasping in welcome breaths as he struggled against Owen’s steadying palms to sit up, Ianto felt suddenly aware of apologetic-of-sorts elemental energy directed his way. It was from something foreign to him, but a cackling of children’s laughter and the rose petal that he coughed up into his hand (it was strangely dry, matching the ones the fairies had left on his desk) immediately discerned the culprit.

“Ianto? Ianto, talk to me, are you alright?” Owen’s terrified voice filtered in slowly through Ianto’s blurred, unfocused mind. Tosh gingerly took the rose petal from his hand; Ianto hadn’t realised he’d been glaring so intently at it.

The pair of them hoisted Ianto up, helping the unsteady telepath over to the sofa and sitting either side of him. Owen checked over him, mumbling to himself with his eyes brows still drawn tight together with anxiety.

Once he had finished, Tosh forcefully turned Ianto’s head to look at her, her eyes burning with anger, not directed at Ianto, but instead to whoever had hurt him. “You tell us everything about who made you almost stop breathing and I swear to God, I will kill every single last one of them.”

 

* * *

 

Ianto glanced blearily up at Tosh through his lashes, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Fear weighed down his shoulders, his dance with death still looming on the outskirts of his mind. When Toshiko’s fierce expression didn’t relent - it wasn’t a new side of Tosh, but Ianto was unfamiliar with her anger, slightly scared, even though the anger wasn’t directed at him - he sighed and started to explain to both of them.

“The fairies and the Gifteds… we have some history, to say the least. About 200 years ago, the fairies attempted to take a Gifted child from one of the Scottish camps; they have this concept, this tradition that every few years they would take a child from Earth, a Chosen One, and raise them anew as a fairy. We never actually found out why.”

Owen hummed thoughtfully, before turning to face Ianto with a puzzled expression. “So, why did this cause such bad history between you and the fairies? Surely just losing one child wouldn’t make all the difference. I know, I sound selfish and inhumane-”

 

“No,” Ianto interrupted, patting Owen awkwardly on the arm. The medic gave him a perturbed look, which Ianto read as ‘seriously?’ and removed his awkwardly placed hand. “We never thought of it as good that the fairies took human children, but we didn’t stop it - human children, human problem, I suppose. But there was an unspoken law, of sorts, that a fairy may never steal a Gifted child. One group got too reckless, lured a defenceless child to her doom and then refused to give her back.

It started a war between the UK Gifteds, and despite the fact, my clan, Demetae, didn’t want to get involved, we helped with the fight and we lost a lot of people because of it, both sides of the war did. So after about 100 years, the fairies and the Gifteds reached a truce. We don’t hurt them, they don’t hurt us, and they keep the human realm safe from their own powers,” Ianto droned on.

“Wait, what? It lasted a hundred years?” Tosh exclaimed incredulously, her voice raised and high pitched. Ianto raised an eyebrow at her dramatics - the humans had had a 100-year war as well, why was this so surprising?

“Yeah, and why do you speak as if you were there?” Owen added.

“Yes, it did last one hundred years. And… every three years, every clan in a particular district (ours includes all of the UK and some of Europe) comes together to celebrate and mourn for a week straight. It’s like a carnival, I guess. But, when you go, we have a day of remembrance - as a sign of trust, we all form some sort of bond with everyone there, which could be thousands of people, though are numbers have significantly dropped. Then, we sort of… link consciousnesses with the spirits of our ancestors, or people in our lives who have died. We reflect on every war, battle, death and we live it as if it were our own experience. I’ve only been once, but from then on, it always felt like it was me who was fighting alongside our warriors 200 years ago.”

Tosh mumbled something under her breath that Ianto couldn’t quite pick up in an incredulous tone. He could read some form of pride between their Link, contentment now that Ianto had finally shared something about his culture. Owen, who seemed just as happy (if a bit confused) went to say something, a supportive phrase of some sort but paused when the alarm sounded for the cog door opening.

Jack and Gwen traipsed in, the former’s face stony and cold, whilst Gwen’s expression (and what Ianto could read of her thoughts) was one of jealousy and annoyance. Evidently, she’s met Estelle and seen how fond Jack was of her - it had always warmed Ianto’s heart when Estelle talked to him about Jack. He was confused at how Jack didn’t realise that Estelle knew exactly who he was.

Bolting up, Ianto unentangled himself from Tosh’s embrace, striding into the kitchen to make coffee. Judging from the thick folder of photos in Jack’s grasp, they would need the caffeine. Jack’s gaze followed him as he walked past, lingering on his suit, glancing to his shoulders before his head snapped to Ianto’s desk, where…

Shit.

Not only had the fairies seemed to have left rose petals on the shoulder of his suit and hanging from his pocket, Toshiko hadn’t gotten around to removing the petals from his desk to analyse them for fairy DNA.

Worry clouded over Jack’s mind; why would Ianto have rose petals on his desk? Was this a threat to him? Would the fairies take someone else from his who meant so much, like they did with his friends so long ago?

It was a strange pact that the pair seemed to have formed - if Ianto didn’t ask too many questions about the fairies, if he didn’t delve so far into Jack’s personal life without consent that Jack shut him out completely, then Jack wouldn’t question him, wouldn’t challenge him, wouldn’t be allowed to worry or care for the telepath out in the open. But not dragging Ianto to the side and asking the Archiver if he was safe tore into Jack’s heart.

Ianto’s steps faltered as he passed the captain, glancing quickly down at the flower remains in his pocket, their blood-red colour mocking him. So, it was confirmed, then. Ianto knew something about the fairies.

Clearing the suspicion from his mind, Jack called out to the rest of the team, Owen and Tosh who were working too busily at their stations (had something happened whilst Jack was away? He could check the security feed, but...Jack forced himself to trust that Ianto knew what he was doing, playing this deadly game with the fairies). They both looked up with a mixture of trepidation and fake smiles before Jack pointed silently to the meeting room.

Gwen followed like a kicked puppy behind him as they all walked up to the meeting room, Toshiko turning off the lights and setting up the projector to present the information she’d hastily gathered after Ianto had started choking and Jack and Gwen had returned.

“This is the youngest girl, and the girl’s cousin,” she began the brief, bringing up a photograph, the same one Estelle had shown at her lecture, and then the matching one of the cousin. Jack sat at the head of the table, chewing a fingernail and concentrating. When Ianto set a mug down in his peripheral vision, he snapped back into attention, his gaze shifting to focus on the slightly flushed man.

“I blame it on magic mushrooms,” Ianto said, unconcerned seemingly, by the fairies. There was a small redness high on his cheekbones, tinged with blue, that sent Jack back into a spiral of worry for the younger man. Gratefully sipping the steaming hot coffee, Jack gifted Ianto with an affectionate smile.

“What you do in private is none of our business,” he murmured fondly, mightily pleased with himself when Ianto suppressed a bright, wide smile, moving from his almost protective station by Jack’s side to dish out the other mugs of coffee. Gwen grimaced at his retreating back, upset that Jack was settling back into his normal routine with the Gifted, trusting him, liking him once more.

“These photographs were faked,” Gwen stated with a tinge of irritation on the edges of her voice. Perhaps if she showed that she knew about fairies too, Jack would at least treat her like he treated Estelle - speaking of, when was Jack going to tell her who Estelle actually was? She deserved that information, she knew so much about Jack. He even trusted her with his immortality!

“Conan-Doyle believed in ‘em,” Owen said, taking any opportunity to argue with the pretty Welshwoman. He disliked her tone of voice or the envious, angry look she had sent at Ianto’s back, too cowardly to be openly jealous of him and his and Jack’s current...relationship.

“He was ga-ga at the time,” Gwen fired back, eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

“And Houdini.”

“Self-publicist,” Gwen bit out.

Defusing the tension between the two, Jack spoke up, directing his stare at a rather self-satisfied Gwen. Ianto noticed the distinct stiffness in Jack’s neck which depicted his irritation. “How do you know so much about it?”

 ‘Finally! Jack had to have noticed me some time, he’s been suppressing the urge for a while,’ Gwen thought proudly. But Jack didn’t seem all that impressed with her knowledge of fairies. That idea went down the drain then; Gwen was almost pleased. She saw no point in this nonsense briefing about little flying, dancing, stupid creatures.

“Cos I wrote an essay on the Cottingley glass plate photographs when I was at school,” she sighed, bored with the entire day. Torchwood was meant to be fun! Owen sniggered beside her, but Gwen ignored the jab. “And when the girls were old ladies they admitted they were fakes.” ‘Unlike some old ladies that I know,’ Gwen mused, thinking of Estelle.

Ianto picked up on the thought, hackles raising at the condescending tone that Gwen was using. Luckily for him, only Toshiko noticed his anger, and the tech smirked, changing the picture on the screen and asking the ‘fairy expert’, “So where was this sighting, then?” There was a bitter hint of mockery in her tone, but Jack didn’t pick up on it.

“It’s in a place called Round Stone Wood,” he answered for Gwen, just as the women was about to move closer to the screen for a better look at the blurry photograph, not having paid enough attention to Estelle’s lecture to recognise the photo.

Tosh looked shocked for a second, matching Ianto’s crestfallen expression (he’d hoped that the astral projection last night was just his imagination and Estelle was completely safe, but this proved otherwise). “Oh, I know it,” Owen said, surprising them all. “Has an odd history.”

“How d’ya mean, odd?”

“It’s always stayed wild. In the ancient times, it was considered bad luck to walk in there, even collect timber. Even the Romans stayed clear of it,” Owen explained, Jack nodding along as he processed the information.

Toshiko leant over the desk, trying once more to grasp onto the frayed ends of the idea that the fairies weren’t a danger, weren’t going to hurt Ianto anymore. “I’ve had no report of any sighting,” she said. Well, other than Ianto’s account of his astral projection the night before, but Jack didn’t know about that, nor was Tosh about to spill all of Ianto’s secrets to him.

“You won’t. these things come in under the radar. But they play tricks with the weather so set up a programme for natural weather patterns.”

Right. That changed quite a lot; if Tosh’s machines couldn’t pick up even the smallest of traces that the fairies left behind, or the random people choking on flowers (Toshiko assumed that it wasn’t just an Ianto-typical thing), then there was no way that Tosh could keep Ianto 100% safe from those tiny bastards.

Soothingly, Ianto’s mind washed over her own, calming her jittery nerves. She welcomed the contact, smiling gently at the silent telepath across the room. All the time, Ianto put his friend’s concerns above his own, always allaying them even if there were wars going on inside his own mind.

And as always, Gwen could be relied on to state the obvious. “Are you saying our machines can’t pick them up?”

“Nothing can.”


	3. Owen Harper is super protective of Ianto (so is everyone but Gwen, to be honest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kinda boring tbh, but i promise that if you stick with it, the next few are hella gay and hella plotty and You Are Not Even Ready For It, I'm Not Even Ready For It, Man

 Jack had taken Gwen and Owen with him to search through Round Stone Wood to see if they could find any information about the fairies that they didn’t already know (and they knew very little). Ianto had seemed all too grateful to be left in the Hub, and Toshiko was, as always, entirely accepting of Jack’s choices regarding who he took with him on recon tasks.

 

 Although he was still worried for the Archiver, and also rather suspicious of what had happened, Jack had drove the team to the wood, a massive bag of equipment packed in the back of the SUV. Gwen barely spoke on the way there, only stared strangely at Jack, believing him not to have noticed. Despite the fact Jack himself had no telepathic abilities, he could tell she was thinking about the photos of Jack and Estelle in Estelle’s living room, how affectionate Jack was with her, how old Estelle was and Jack’s immortality.

 

 It irked him that Gwen was learning more about him, especially because he would never have given her the information himself. Estelle and Jack’s love should have been memories for him and her alone, not for any random Welshwoman who acted too much like Rose Tyler for Jack to send her away.

 

 They were about halfway to the site that Estelle had described, Owen trailing behind, staring up at trees for any sign of strange activity and Gwen tagging dutifully along beside Jack’s quickly striding figure, when Gwen started talking about his old love.

 

 “I asked Estelle about your dad. She said she’d never seen the pair of you together,” she said. It was an accusation, despite Gwen’s attempt at lightening the words, a fake laugh, a lilting tone at the end of her speech that annoyed the immortal more.

 

 Logically, he knew that Gwen was innocently, naively trying to find out more about his life - because she had discovered his immortality (which he wouldn’t have ever told her had the circumstances allowed it) Gwen felt as if Jack owed her the knowledge. But she didn’t. And Jack wasn’t going to give it to her.

 

 Answering seriously, if untruthfully, he said, “Why would she ? She lost touch with him after the war. I just happened to catch up with her later.”

 

 “Oh,” Gwen said lamely, still not believing him. She opened her mouth to press at the issue again, but Jack stopped her with a half concealed glare, before turning back to tapping at his Vortex Manipulator, for lack of something better to do than look at the route that they were taking once more.

 

 Entering a clearing, with four irregular shaped stones in the centre, Jack felt a strange prickling at the back of his neck, like he was being watched. However, as he glanced up and around and saw nothing, Jack simply passed it off as him being too cautious. The fairies had no reason to watch them, did they?

 

 “You know this whole area was forest in primeval times. Most of the development areas have been built on lay lines,” Owen remarked as he ambled over to set up the scanning equipment, beginning to pick up bits of moss, a scraping of stone, some twigs from the area as samples to experiment and break down in the Hub.

 

 Jack fiddled again with his Manipulator, bringing up some random material about circles of stones in regards to fairies, saving it away to read later in his office. Sighing, Gwen threw up her arms in resignation. “Anyone could’ve made this circle.”

 

 Annoyed, Jack glared up at her. “Why do you keep doubting me? I spell out the dangers, you keep looking for explanations,” he retorted, red-hot enger seeping into his voice.

 

 “That’s what police work’s all about,” Gwen replied brashly, a little, self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. That she found the entire scenario a joke enraged Jack. He was reminded distinctly that that morning, he had forgone bringing Ianto along with him to Estelle’s lecture mainly because he wanted someone to challenge the belief of the fairies (and also because he was worried he’d scare off Ianto with how lovey-dovey he was with Estelle, especially given her age and how Ianto didn’t know about his immortality - to his knowledge, at least). But this wasn’t what he had thought about someone challenging him, it wasn’t like how Ianto used to not-quite-do, it wasn’t soft or teasing. Gwen was like venom.

 

 “Alright then, science,” Gwen attempted to explain the phenomenon, dragging Jack back into the conversation. Exasperated, he shot down her efforts once more, unused to this callous, unpleasantly bold, disrespectful side of the Welshwoman.

 

 “I know you told me, it’s that corner of the eye stuff,” she said, deadly venom lacing her words. A quiet giggling and a sharp whirling, flying sound from behind her caught her attention. Her hackles rose in fear, and Owen looked up from his work sharply. Tension hung heavy in the air.

 

 “Shit,” Owen mumbled under his breath and when Jack’s gaze snapped to glance at him, the medic was looking at his phone, bottom lip caught by his teeth in a sign of worry. His eyes skimmed over the text, another few expletives leaving his lips, hand running through his hair - Owen never would usually have messed up his perfectly gelled hair, so Jack rightly assumed that it was something important, something life-threatening, even.

 

 Just as he was about to ask Owen what was wrong, he received his own distraction in the form of a buzzing in his pocket. Instead of bothering to endlessly search through news sites and the police database, Ianto had set up a system for any death or reported abuse/stalking with rose petals as a key word.

 

 Mark Goodson was the only result found, and coincidentally, he’d just been discovered dead in his cell.

 

 “Owen, could you get those samples back to the Hub, Gwen and I are going to the police station. There’s been a death there, presumed suicide but with no signs of anything but suffocation - some think it’s a murder, but it was a locked room.”

 

 Sighing boredly, Gwen asked, “why are we going there? We have a case to figure out here, don’t we?” ‘Not that you seemed all that interested in it,’ Jack mused bitterly, shutting the lid of his Manipulator. Gwen faced him with a raised eyebrow and folded arms, her face sceptical and pissed.

 

 “Because he said invisible, flying creatures were after him. Made him choke on rose petals, an attack strategy of the fairies,” Jack answered as civilly as possible, noting with concern that Owen flinched when he mentioned the rose petals, straightening up to try and cover the instinctive reaction. Desperately wanting to ask what had the medic so riled up, Jack stopped himself by tapping his comms, speaking in quick words to Toshiko on the other end.

 

 “Er, y-yes…” Tosh began to reply, before cutting off with a long pause in which Jack could hear a muffled conversation between presumably her and Ianto, the former seeming to coax Ianto into relaxation, fear tinging her voice. Jack made a promise, only for Ianto’s sake (and yes, maybe to quell his own worry and suspicions) to ask her about what the hell was going on. His team couldn’t not trust him in such a dire time.

 

 “I’ll be at the station right away. You just want me to bring- shh, shhh, darling you’re alright - you just want me to bring my usual kit?”

 

 Jack hummed his assent, afraid that if he spoke either his voice would crack, betraying his distress about the situation, or he’d not stop talking, asking too many questions about Ianto’s welfare, whatever was going on with Owen and Tosh. Was Gwen involved? Was that why she was so irritated and disbelieving throughout the entire day - because she was worried for Ianto?

 

 Instead of completely a more extensive scan of the surroundings, Owen hastily packed up his gear, jogging after Jack’s retreating form down the path to the SUV, and back to the Hub.

* * *

 

 

 “Ianto! Ianto, are you alright? Where are you?” Owen called out as he ran into the Hub, too terrified for the pale Gifted (despite knowing that Toshiko would never leave Ianto alone if was really struggling) to slow down. The Hub seemed to be empty, Tosh and Ianto’s computers shut off, the bin under Toshiko’s desk filled with firetruck red petals, rapidly and badly covered with sheets of crumpled, recyclable paper. There was no Ianto in sight.

 

 “M’here, calm down, m’fine,” Ianto groaned, his voice raspy and breathless. A hand shot up from a bundle of blankets on the sofa, waving detachedly at Owen’s general direction before flopping back down. Laughing with relief at the strange sight, Owen marched over to the heap of multicoloured throws (obviously from the stash Tosh kept in the Archives that she thought no one knew about), pulling one back to reveal Ianto’s bluish, deathly pale face.

 

 “What happened, Ianto? I mean, Tosh told me that you were choking again, but it was worse this time. She thought you were dead,” Owen asked fervently, his mind thinking up every possible scenario in which Ianto could have actually died.

 

 The other man grunted in discomfort as he sat up, his temples twinging painfully as he did so. The blankets fell from around his shoulders to reveal darkening bruises in the shape of his own fingers, with crescent moon scratch marks at the tips. “I think someone tried to hurt the fairies’ Chosen One. They retaliated in the only way that they knew how - stuck rose petals down his throat, made him choke on them. Scared him, played around with his emotions before killing him. He put himself in prison - he was a pedophile, you see - and the fairies killed him about an hour ago.”

 

 Puzzled, Owen set down his heavy equipment, sitting on the sofa besides Ianto. The telepath turned his still slightly blue, bloodless face to Owen, raising an eyebrow elegantly at the sight of the other man’s dramatically puzzled face, eyebrows pulled so far down his forehead that it was comical rather than endearing.

 

 “But why did his death trigger your choking? How does it make any sense?”  


 “I think...I think that the fairies are telepathic somehow. It could be because of the history between them and the Gifteds, but I’m sure they have a psycic ability. Because they know that I saw their true forms when I was astral projecting - it’s a long story, Owen, don’t ask - they’re targeting me. Everyone that they hurt, somehow they link me up with them, make me feel their pain too,” he explained falteringly, honestly as confused as Owen was.

 

 “So...it’s not just this Mark Goodson guy. It’s anyone that the fairies hurt?” Owen asked incredulously, panic evident in his tone. Ianto nodded in assent and the worry in his expression grew. Exasperated with how both Tosh and Owen had been treating him as some fragile object since Lisa’s death - and Jack had been treating him like that too, now that he thought of it - Ianto stood up quickly, meaning to stride off to do some research on his computer, or make coffee, or show that he could be independent, that he wasn’t helpless.

 

The message didn’t exactly get across.

 

 When Ianto stood, his vision swam, black circles dancing across his sight. The blood rushing to his legs felt like really big pins and needles - knives and swords, instead maybe - to the weakened limbs, and Ianto stumbled, crying out. Bolting up, Owen grabbed him securely by the elbows, supporting the staggering telepath.

 

 “I told you, I’m fine,” Ianto snapped, pushing Owen away flimsily as soon as he had gained feeling back in his legs. The medic looked annoyed for a moment before his face softened. Having been in similar positions himself, Owen understood Ianto’s need to not rely on other people’s assistance. Instead of pushing the matter, Owen simply nodded before advising the Gifted;

 

 “Take a painkiller or two, at the very least.”

  
 Nodding begrudgingly, Ianto stumbled down to the safety of his Archives. 

 

* * *

 

 

“You know the dead man was a convicted paedophile, he used to hang around schools,” Jack murmured to Tosh and Gwen, watching the CCTV of Goodson seizing up in his cell. The memory of seeing the man, glassy-eyed with rose petals at the back of his throats danced throughout his thoughts, reminding him horribly of his men, lying dead on a train with petals protruding from their own mouths.

 

 “But why the petals in his mouth?” Gwen questioned, seemingly much less irritated, much more believing than before. Glancing at her in surprise, Tosh fiddled absent-mindedly with her pen. There was something niggling at the back of her mind, but she ignored it in favour of focusing on Jack’s answer.

 

 “Just a bit of fun on their part,” Jack replied, and it was, it was the fairies’ own sick idea of entertainment. Jack had been a first-hand witness to it and the clinical elegance in which the fairies’ murdered was terrifying, to say the least.

 

 “You call that fun?” Gwen replied, with a smile on her pink lips - she was trying to make the situation lighter, but it didn’t work and Jack’s fist clenched involuntarily. He’d lost fifteen of his friends to these creatures, and Gwen was trying to make a joke?

 

 “That’s the way these creatures like to do things,” he replied testily. “They play games. They torment, they kill.” Mollified, Gwen turned her slightly angry eyes towards Jack, lowly asking ‘why’ in an attempted dangerous tone. “As a punishment, or a warning to others. They protect their own. The chosen ones. Somehow children and the spirit world, they go together.”

 

 Toshiko recognised the phrase ‘chosen ones’, Ianto’s explanation of the way the fairies took children running through her mind. When she thought of the telepath, another strange fear raced through her mind - there was no reason for her to be scared, and she was immediately worried for the Gifted, itching to get up and check on him.

 

 “So how do we stop them?”

 

 “First we have to find out who they want. And we can’t track them. They have control of the elements, fire, water, the air that we breathe. They can drag that air right out of our bodies,” Jack answered, bending down to put himself level with the two women. His eyebrows were knitted together as if he was stuck in a particularly painful memory. ‘They’re elementals then, like Ianto,’ Toshiko filed away the information for a later date.

 

 “Sometimes I think they’re part Mara,” Jack said quietly, pulling Toshiko from her thoughts. Distinctly, she heard Owen marching, stomping about downstairs, his footfall heavy and concerned, like frantic pacing.

 

 “Mara?” she asked, and then yes, that was Owen running up the stairs. Toshiko could imagine the medic’s head whirling about, his mouth half open as he struggled to do whatever it was he was doing. Worried for whatever that actually was, Toshiko barely heard Jack’s words.

 

 “Kind of malignant wraiths. It’s where the word nightmare came from. They used to kill people in their sleep,” the immortal murmured, his voice trailing off to be replaced by Owen’s frenzied, agitated cry.

 

 “Toshiko! It’s, it’s Ianto. I can’t find him, he won’t pick up his phone; according to the CCTV footage, he left about ten minutes ago in a massive hurry. He looked terrified, and now I have no idea where he is-” Owen panted, exhausted from running about the Hub in an attempt to find the still unsteady on his feet Gifted.

 

 Jack straightened up suddenly, poorly hidden concern on his features. His brow furrowed, like wilting flowers in the autumn, and his blue eyes darkened with fear. Beside him, Gwen’s brow also pressed down, but paired with her pouting lips and folded arms, it was a sign of confusion and mockery that Owen would worry so much about a little thing.

 

 With the thought of Ianto’s pale, waxy face and his strange actions that day on his mind, Jack started towards Owen, with every intention to hop in the SUV and find the Archiver that made his day so stressful but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

 

 Irked, Jack leant over and put on the intercom, answering the terrified woman on the other end of the line. Jack’s eyes became glassy with fear, lip trembling with his anxiety; two of the people that he cared about could have their lives at stake. Which would he choose, which would he prioritise?

 

 “You were right Jack. There are bad ones, they’ve come to me,” Estelle said, her voice shaking. Her voice never shook, not unless she was truly petrified - insisting to himself that Ianto could handle himself, Jack replied to his old lover. “Estelle we’re on our way, stay where you are, don’t go anywhere near them, do you understand?”

 

 Owen’s face was pinched as Jack strode past him to grab the SUV’s keys and his coat, but he nodded curtly at Jack’s choice. Only Gwen seemed unconcerned as Tosh and Owen raced along with Jack to the car park, all of them worried, all of them jittery with nerves, all of them imagining their loved ones dead at the hands of the fairies.

 

* * *

 

 When Ianto made it to Estelle’s house, he could already feel the thick presence of the fairies in the air, an overwhelming resonance of power bouncing around the small area that the fairies currently occupied, currently attacked.

 

 Vaulting over the gate instead of opening it (knowing from the too few visits to Estelle’s house that the joints needed oiling), Ianto raced up the short pathway to the front door. Before he could start banging frantically on the wood, a sudden downpour of rain thundered down, blocking out any noise that he hoped to make.

 

 Cursing under his breath, Ianto stood back from the shelter of the doorway, soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds. The rain was icy and in a few moments, Ianto was shivering, hard shudders racking his already weak body.

 

 Mind whirling, Ianto ran a hand through his hair as the cackling of the fairies filled his ears. Estelle was in danger, he could feel it - it was the only reason Ianto had made the trek to her house when he still could barely stand on his own. Angry suddenly, Ianto felt the urge to kick at her door or do something else drastic to try and help her.

 

 Then, “Come on Moses. Come on darling. Moses!” Estelle’s voice, terror tainting her words as she called loudly for her feline companion. Swallowing hard, Ianto pinpointed her voice and was sprinting on the wet ground to her back garden before she could finish the last cry for her cat.

 

 Estelle called again, growing increasingly desperate; by the time Ianto was sliding into her yard, she had cautiously stepped into the grass. It was the fairies’ domain now, and Estelle had just put her own life on the line. Ianto called out, trying to coax her back in, but as she turned to look at him with an aghast expression, a gust of wind slammed the door behind her shut with an audible click.

 

 The fairies giggled high pitched, dancing throughout the heavy rainfall as Estelle shuddered, arms wrapped protectively around herself. If the cold didn’t kill her, then Estelle could just as well choke on the rainwater that flooded ground.

  
 “Ianto?” Estelle called out, a cocktail of trepidation, shivers and relief in her tone. She stumbled forward, eyes dropping down to Ianto’s frozen feet where an equally sopping feline was waiting for her. “And Moses!”

 

 Sedated now that she had found her companion alive and well, Estelle turned frantically towards the door, believing it only to have been blown shut by the wind - but the fairies had tampered with it, and although she struggled, she couldn’t force the door open.

 

 The rain poured down heavier, like Zeus’ almighty rage, but Ianto ignored it in favour of racing forward, trying to cover Estelle’s shaking figure with his own body. Cackling, the Mara swooped down to taunt him, and his eyes shifted into their natural form due to the anger.

 

 “Your ancestors couldn’t save their friends then, so why would you be able to save your friends now?” a group of the goblins cried into his ear, invisible to Estelle’s gaze, but horribly apparent in Ianto’s.

 

 Fear for the elderly human clouded his mind; although he knew that Estelle had sensed a great power in Ianto the first time she had met him (the smart woman had tracked him down, easily associating him with Jack after seeing them together in the SUV when they had a case in the area, and the two had become quick friends) he had never truly confessed the extent of that power before.

 

 “Estelle,” he murmured lowly, and she turned to him, eyes widening with fear and fascination when she saw his complete cobalt glare. “Trust me, please.” After a tense moment interrupted only by Moses’ plaintive meows, Estelle nodded, releasing the door handle and allowed the telepath to grip it with his shaking fingers.

 

 Not having practised for a while with his magic, Ianto was rusty on the uptake. But, as he sensed Estelle growing fear and weakness, he reached deep inside himself, a spark of blue flying from the tips of his now burning fingers as he made an elaborate turning motion with them.

 

 Pushing Estelle frantically through the now open door, Ianto glanced fearfully up at the screeching fairies, before throwing himself inside afterwards. Just as he recognised Toshiko, Jack and Owen’s familiar presence - they must be close - everything suddenly turned white.

 

 Ianto couldn’t breathe again.

 

 He spent a moment feeling irritated, before the Gifted dropped heavily to his knees, unable to support his own weight once the oxygen stopped flowing to his brain. Choking and gasping in mouthfuls of air, Ianto felt his lungs contract and tighten, protesting as they moved without receiving oxygen.

 

 “Ianto? Ianto! Oh my Lord, what is it, what can I do to help? Ianto!” Estelle sobbed, the fear and the near death experience and now the anxiety catching up with her, causing hot, salty tears to roll down her cheeks. She knelt by the writhing telepath, attempting to soothe, but not having the means to do so.

 

 Ianto rolled onto his back, struggling to find air just as the door was busted in, Jack filing in first with a sharp cry of his old lover’s name. Only seeing the man’s billowing overcoat and feeling his haywire emotions in his mind, Ianto took a while to recognise the man as his captain.

  
 “Jack! Jack, it’s Ianto! Please, he isn’t breathing!”  

 

 


	4. Gwen Cooper is a Mythic Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo, this chapter was done really quickly at a bus stop (and also on the bus, but i got bad looks from this old lady, so it was literally for three seconds, old people intimidate me, i think she hated that us millennials are so obsessed with our phones) so it's kinda bad, but i just wanted to put it out there instead of constantly rewriting it to try and get it perfect
> 
> admittedly, little actually goes on in this chapter, but a lot of shit can happen because of it. additionally, the narrator's keep constantly changing, so jack or gwen or tosh's pov aren't always shown (in short, if something happens and you wonder why a certain character's reaction hasn't been noted despite it seeming to be their pov, this is my excuse as to why)
> 
> anyways, i hope that you enjoy this chapter, it's kind of a mess

Jack was by Estelle’s side in an instant, dropping to his knees by Ianto’s writhing, seizing body. Glancing up at her in concern for a millisecond before she nodded to confirm her own well-being, Jack supported Ianto’s neck upwards with his hands, shifting forward so that the man’s thrashing head lay in his lap.

“That’s it Harkness, keep his head up, try and hold him steady while I work. Sweetheart,” Owen said quickly, directing his speech towards Estelle as he knelt by Ianto’s convulsing frame. “Move this sofa and the table out of the way. Gwen, help her. Tosh! Anything in the SUV for oxygen deficiency, anything at all, go grab it now! Go!”

Owen had his no-nonsense doctor mode activated, so Gwen didn’t push her luck with complaining - nor did she at first question the still distressed old woman why Ianto was there, but Owen knew it would only be time.

Fixing his attention on his pale friend, Owen ran through his normal check up routine; Ianto’s pulse was erratic, and his breathing incredibly shallow, a wheezing sound escaping his throat every time his chest moved heavily. Jack’s hands, currently stroking through Ianto’s wet hair in an attempt to soothe now that Ianto was slightly less convulsive, seemed just as sheet white as Ianto’s skin.

“That rain a few minutes ago, it must have been cold as hell. Am I right, sweetheart?” Owen called over to Estelle who was anxiously waiting and shivering, too weak to help move the coffee table away from the three. The freezing woman nodded sharply, hand covering her mouth as she stared on. “Gwen, try and find Estelle some blankets.”

The Welshwoman looked about ready to argue as she straightened up from moving the furniture to allow Owen a better working space, but she couldn’t get a word in as Ianto suddenly started thrashing again, pained whimpers and cut off cries leaving his blue lips.

“Ianto? Ianto, can you hear me? You’re going to be fine - Harkness, try and calm him down,” Owen murmured, his voice seemingly close to breaking. He pushed his hands down on Ianto’s chest in an attempt to still the Archivist, about to move away when Ianto almost threw the hands away in his fit, before he noticed the harsh beating and then stopping and then, once again, frantic beating of Ianto’s heart.

Frantically, Owen checked the telepath’s pulse again, which was weedy and weak and all too fast. “Shit...he’s going into cardiac arrest - Harkness, keep him down, I need to start chest compressions. Tosh, do we have a defib in the SUV?”

The tech, her eyes red and chest heaving, arms filled with random medical equipment that Owen was sure wouldn’t be useful anymore, shook her head. “It broke three days ago, Ianto hasn’t been able to replace it.”

Groaning, Owen turned back to Ianto, who Jack had manoeuvred into lying flat for Owen to start chest compressions. However, when the medic leant over, knuckled interlocked tightly, hovering in the space above Ianto’s mid-torso, he found that he couldn’t press down any further, couldn’t get his hands on Ianto’s chest to help him.

The Gifted gasped, before he slumped down - it was terrifying to see, especially with the blood pumping through Owen’s head at top speeds, because it wasn’t a response at all, it was simply Ianto choking, whimpering, but ultimately breathing one second and the next…

Toshiko sobbed suddenly, her hands trying to muffle the noise as Owen tried to force his hands down, again and again, growing increasingly more scared and worried and angry. “This is the fairies’ doing,” Jack snarled, his voice low and deadly, sending a shiver down Owen’s spine for whoever had killed Ianto - well, Owen didn’t even know if he was definitely dead because he couldn’t get his bloody hands on the man!

A cackle filled the air, followed by the sight of a glowing white light at the glass door pane. It seemed to cock its head mockingly as it sniggered, dancing across the garden, always in sight of the stock still team (save for Estelle’s shivers, Owen’s valiant struggles to help Ianto and Jack’s ever so slight, barely noticeable tremors of malicious anger).

Then, interrupting the near silence, Gwen’s sharp voice, crying out pathetically; “Why are you doing this? Let them go!”

Zipping up to the door again, and staying hauntingly still for a second, the fairy asked, “Let who go, human?” Gwen seemed to step forwards, her body ramrod straight with fear that she tried to pass off as resentment, courage. Her bottom lip trembled, betraying her as Jack turned his glare to her.

“The-The children. Y-You don’t need them, you don’t need to hurt anyone.”

“And Ianto. Let him go as well. Stop whatever the hell you’re doing to him,” Jack added, his voice an animalistic growl. His eyes darkened with fury as the fairy twirled around as if trying to make a decision. It’s blue tinted wings matched the colour of Ianto’s skin.

“Such a shame...I’ve been waiting so long to get my hands on something like him. I relish hurting him,” the fairy replied, voice twinkly and light, a mocking, hateful edge to their tone. Jack’s fist clenched, involuntarily attempting to move out and protect Ianto, but the force field of compressed air (he’d figured it out once the fairy had shown its face) stopped him abruptly.

“Why?” he snarled instead, ignoring Owen’s warning look. These creatures could be incredibly dangerous if they were pissed off, as Owen and Toshiko fine well knew. Obviously, from the others’ confused expressions, they did not, and Owen glanced fearfully at Toshiko, predicting what was about to come next.

“The medic and the tech. If they tell you, if they spill poor - Ianto, was it? - Ianto’s secrets, then I will let him live. But do be warned...when he wakes up, he’s not going to like the world he’s suddenly been thrown into by you two. You could ruin everything that he's been trying so desperately to keep his own, to keep safe.”

“Owen, Tosh. Tell me. Please. He’s dying,” Jack begged, his eyes shining. But there was still a hard, threatening edge to his voice - Owen didn’t envy any other man, woman or other variants thereupon that hurt the captain's Archivist.

Everything between Ianto and Jack could go to waste, Owen and Tosh understood that completely and Ianto cared oh so much about keeping that sacred, keeping Jack in the dark to keep him safe from other members of his clan. But...it wasn’t worth his life and despite knowing that Gwen would use it as an incentive to get the poor telepath deeply mistrusted by Jack (and Jack could fine well go along with her ploy, seeing as the man he was falling for had lied to him so much), Owen opened his mouth to speak.

Toshiko beat him there, and seeing as her best friend’s life was on the line, it was unsurprising. “Ianto…-” Tosh began but interrupted herself with a loud inhale, eyes watering profusely. Jack encouraged her with a kind, but frantic look and she sobbed. “Ianto isn’t human. He never has been human.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it, techie? But I think to really destroy dear Ianto’s life, you’re going to have to do better than that. Everything. Now. Or, I can take the tiniest bit of oxygen I’ve left in his lungs and make it vanish. I’m rather powerful, you see,” the fairy threatened, incredibly still once more. Then, when Toshiko said nothing, they raised a hand and Ianto twitched violently. “I won’t ask again.” Another jerk from Ianto, a pained, almost silent breath escaping from his collapsing lungs.

Every second that Ianto went without sufficient oxygen was another risk of permanent brain damage - if Owen and Tosh waited any longer, Ianto might not make it out of this experience alive, no matter what the fairy did. With that in mind, Owen turned to Ianto, whispering a small apology to the almost lifeless Gifted, and then looked Jack dead in the eyes.

“Ianto is a telepath. He can read our minds, he can feel our emotions, he can, he never, ever would, but he can manipulate our thoughts and decisions. He comes from a clan in the high north of Wales, with at least 60 others like him. They call themselves the Gifted, they have power over the elements and they have been at silent war with the fairies for over 200 years.”

Jack’s face fell as soon as Owen said his first words about Ianto, and he continued to spiral further and further into a pit of despair, horror and betrayal - but no anger, Owen noted hopefully, even though he knew that Ianto and Jack’s relationship wouldn’t be the same after he awoke.

Cackling, the fairy seemed to grin malevolently at Owen; the guilt was eating him alive already and the fairy could tell. Fuck, everyone could probably tell. “Wonderful, this is just wonderful,” the fairy began but paused at Owen’s sudden enraged yell to let Ianto go. “Yes, of course. I do suppose I should deliver my end of the bargain. Have fun with your little boy toy, Harkness.” With a distinctive swoosh of their arm before they disappeared from view, Ianto was awakened.

It wasn’t a slow flutter of eyelashes like Sleeping Beauty. No, Ianto bolted up violently, with a deep, hungry gasp of air, backing up with unadulterated fear as he saw Owen’s poised, tense body before his concerned face. Jack was ready for him, responding quickly as Ianto kicked out, screaming with terror as the immortal wrapped his arms around the flailing Gifted, mouth pressed against his ear and large hands tightly holding Ianto’s strong legs in place.

Despite the captain's rather substantial muscles, Ianto struggled vigorously, crying our morosely or angrily every once in while. He delivered a few dark bruises to Jack's sides and a particularly stinging scratch down his neck, ones that Jack knew he would use to immortalise this memory - with pain, for both himself and the shaking telepath in his arms.

By the time the telepath had calmed enough to recognise where he was, he’d been curled up in Jack’s lap for at least five minutes of fierce fighting, kicking and screaming. “It’s alright Ianto, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll keep you safe, always Ianto, you have nothing to fear, just breathe with me, God-”

“I-I know...I know, I’m not scared, I know,” Ianto whispered, repeating it like a mantra even as it raised in pitch and volume, pure, intense terror evident in his flashing blue, unfocused gaze. Jack mumble something in his ear, stroking his hair soothingly, the damp strands half dry by now.

“Ianto? Ianto, you know who I am, right?” Owen asked anxiously, risking moving forwards as Tosh did the same, the latter’s cheeks soaked with tears and red with fear. Ianto warily watched the both of them, eyes flicking suspiciously between them before his eyes focused properly.

With a small nod and tiny, tiny, tiny smile, Owen had the affirmation and stupidly moved forward at his regular, quick pace, unlike the small, timid movements before. The Gifted spooked like a deer in the headlights, crying out and going to punch wildly at Owen, cringing at Gwen’s cry for him to stop, for him to realise that him, him of all people, was hurting others, was dangerous to others.

Jack grabbed his hands securely with his own, hugging Ianto’s head to his chest, Ianto practically melting as he heard the thu-thump, thu-thump of Jack’s heartbeat. Glaring at Gwen, he mouthed at the testy woman to grab Ianto some dry clothing (the prepared Archivist always kept spares for the entire team in the boot of the SUV), but Gwen seemed to not understand.

Realising what Jack was asking for, and what Ianto was in dire need of, Toshiko held up one finger to signify a second, leaving behind her shaking, terrified best friend because the ex-PC couldn’t understand Jack’s clearly mouthed words.

Meanwhile, Estelle had swathed herself in half the blankets Gwen had angrily found for her, depositing the rest on the ground near, but not too near to Ianto and the others. Owen was well away from the telepath, who had calmed drastically but rooted around in the pile of med equipment that Toshiko had dumped, pulling out a shiny metal stethoscope.

Quietly, he murmured to Ianto that he needed to check his heartbeat, and Ianto should probably take off his shirt and wet clothes for the full physical. Owen’s becalming tone didn’t exactly have the desired effect. At the sound of him needing to remove clothing, Ianto cried out again, struggling to force himself away, clawing valiantly at any part of Jack he could reach, which wasn’t a lot. But, the American was exhausted and Ianto just kept fighting - if he kept this up, at some point he would win.

Tosh ran back in with a dry pair of trousers and Owen’s sweater, imagining the many buttons on Ianto’s dress shirts too stressful at that point. When she saw the screeching telepath (or rather, heard), Toshiko raced forwards, sliding down next to Jack and helping him soothe the man, far away for Ianto’s bucking legs.

Although she wasn’t saying anything, her touch alone helped Ianto, and she knew the words Jack were whispering (which only she, Jack and Ianto could properly hear) also helped an awful lot. “Ianto? Ianto, I know you’re scared, I know, but you’re going to be brave, aren’t you? Be brave for me. Please. You don’t have to show Owen anything, I promise you, I promised that I’d keep you safe, didn’t I? But at least let him check your heartbeat. Please, for me.”

Ianto swallowed thickly, his vision swimming and his head aching tremendously. After some thought, he let go of his iron grip on the back of Jack’s neck, whining ever so softly at the crescent moons that he had left indented in the immortal’s skin from his fingernails. Turning slowly to Owen, he inched forward the tiniest amount, giving the medic the green light to check his heart rate.

“Okay, just the stethoscope. That’s all we’re going to do,” Owen assured, pressing the cold metal to the sopping material of Ianto’s thankfully thin dress shirt. His heartbeat was surprisingly steady considering twenty minutes ago, he was having palpitations. “Breathe in.” A deep, if slightly uneven breath in, and still, Ianto’s heart was strong. “And breathe out. That’s it, good job Ianto. We’re all done now, all you gotta do is change - shhh, hear me out Ianto - into some dry clothes. You can go into another room, you don’t have to worry. That okay?”

Owen’s voice helped Ianto relax, as the medic was using the tone he only ever saved for children and people who were very, very sick. It relieved the tenseness in Ianto’s shoulders as it washed over him, oddly paternal.

“Okay,” he said shakily, his voice giving out to a hacking cough; even though it was progress and Owen beamed brightly at the Gifted, standing up slowly, knees aching. Ianto swallowed hard and tried to follow Owen’s movements, but his legs were too weak to support himself.

As his knees wobbled and he collapsed, Owen grabbed hold of Ianto’s arms at the same time Jack had him securely by the waist on his own rise to his feet. Tosh had her arms stretched out, about to help if Ianto needed any more of it. “You good, Tea Boy?” Owen asked, playful nickname lightening his concerned tone.

Ianto nodded, before letting out a quiet whimper. He'd never felt so fucking helpless and it hurt. “Just help a little longer. Please,” he whispered despairingly, grabbing weakly but pleadingly at the fabric of Owen’s coat, and Jack’s hand on his waist, the only skin he could reach of the immortal.

After a few minutes, Ianto had successfully stumbled to where the bathroom was, directed by Estelle paired with a kind smile shared between herself and the telepath that Jack positively beamed at. He hadn't known that the two were familiar, but he'd long since learned to accept that sometimes, he had no idea about certain things, especially about certain people. Letting go of Ianto's waist, but still stroking for a moment down the shivering man's back, Jack stepped back to allow Owen easier access to the bathroom.

Owen set him dry clothes down on the lid of the toilet, and sternly but sympathetically ordering Ianto to scream as loud as possible if anything felt weird or wrong or bad. Ianto grinned tiredly, nodding slowly and then surprisingly, dropping forwards into a short hug with the medic. Owen was dumbstruck before he eagerly returned the affection, all the more glad that Ianto was comfortable with the physical contact even after what Owen had done (which he was sure Ianto had picked up on).

Drawing away, Owen smiled minutely, shutting the door behind him, and then the screaming match between Gwen and whoever the hell she wanted to yell at commenced.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwen’s face was thunderous, to say the least. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed and her mouth a cross between a snarl and a pout, pointed directly at Jack. Hoping to God that Estelle’s walls were somewhat soundproof so that Ianto didn’t have to hear everything of Gwen’s screams, Owen entered the room once more. The sofa and table had been moved back to their original positions and Toshiko had gathered the medical equipment and deposited them back in the car.

After a second of waiting flopped on the sofa, leisurely taking Estelle’s vitals know that he knew the cold wasn’t affecting her too badly, Owen could watch as the games began.

“Why did you undermine me before? When I was speaking to the fairy, I asked them to let the children go, and you cut in talking about bloody Ianto - they probably would have let him go anyways, but those children are 100% innocent! They don’t deserve to be kidnapped,” Gwen snapped, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Despite the tension in the air, both Jack and Gwen’s voices were surprisingly quiet.

“Probably would have let Ianto go? Probably? The fact that you base the safety of your team-mate, someone I trust implicitly, on ‘probably’ is truly horrific-”

Jack was cut off by Gwen’s furious shout; he was so surprised that he stepped back a millimetre, feeling Toshiko’s presence at his back, clearly showing whose side she was on. “That’s exactly it, though, Jack! Why do you trust him so much? He’s not even human!”

Jack’s face morphed into that of an enraged wolf - Owen wouldn’t have been shocked if steam started whistling from his ears. With a slightly hoarse, low growl, Jack told Gwen, “He doesn’t need to be human for me to trust him. Ianto has done nothing but try to protect us - all of us - and has asked absolutely nothing in return. I’m sure you owe him your life and if not now, then you certainly will in the future.”

“I didn’t ask for him to protect me, did I?” Gwen said hotly, her face red with anger. Owen slumped away from Estelle, having taken her slightly elevated heart rate and deemed the elderly woman to be perfectly healthy. The woman’s face was unreadable, but Owen knew from the slight tremor in her hands that Estelle wanted nothing more but to stand up and give Gwen a good slap.

“But that’s just it, Gwen. You never had to ask to be protected, Ianto did it automatically. His need to help and defend people wouldn’t ever change, whether he was human or not,” Toshiko said from her spot by Jack’s shoulder. She was upset and exhausted and incredibly worried, and there was nothing but pity in her gaze for Gwen.

Gaping, the other woman stepped back, as if realising that she had the entire team, plus one with Estelle (and plus two if you counted her cat, Moses) against her. However, she still had acrimony simmering in her veins, so she let it out in a torrent of verbal abuse for the telepath trapped listening in the bathroom adjacent.

“He rooted around in my thoughts, my emotions, my mind! He could know everything about any of us, even you Jack - Ianto could use that against you, don’t you see that he’s a danger to the team?” she cried out.

It was true, Jack admitted to himself, that Ianto could know secrets about him which he would never share with another being ever...but Ianto was innocent in this; he never asked to be telepathic. Jack didn’t want to even think about trying to hate the young, too young Archivist. Although it would take a long while for Jack to adapt to the thought of someone knowing him inside out (and Ianto might not even know that much about him, Owen had never confirmed how much delving the pretty Gifted did - Jack assumed not very much, given how private and respectful Ianto was himself), Jack would never hate the boy.

Taking the pause as an incentive to speak, Estelle turned her own steely glare on Gwen. “How dare you? Ianto Jones has been nothing but kind and considerate to Jack, and to me; you don’t have the right to speak of him in this manner,” she bit out, moving to straighten up even though Owen had warned her not to.

Eye to eye, nose to nose with Gwen now, the old woman managed to look like an empress staring down at her underling, her mouth curled in a hateful grimace, matching Gwen’s own perturbed expression. The Welshwoman tried to cover the irritation, put on a polite front, knowing that Jack must care about Estelle and it would cause so much damage if she lashed out at her.

“You know nothing, little girl. Ianto, human or not, is so much better than you. He is not petty, he is not degrading and he is not xenophobic, such as yourself. You don’t deserve him as someone who looks out for you and I don’t think that you ever will.”

With that, Estelle glared across at Gwen before the ex-PC turned, a trembling in her lip, and sat down. Jack smiled briefly but tenderly, noticing the knowing look that she sent his way in relation to him and Ianto. As she sat down, Owen gave her a wide grin, clasping her on the shoulder in a warm half-hug, pleased as hell that someone could appreciate Ianto for what he was.

“Gwen, Ianto almost died today,” Tosh began, and Jack moved away to sit on the sofa opposite Estelle and Owen (and Gwen collapsed alone on her patchy armchair). “And if he had died, he would have died doing the one thing that he always does no matter what. Saving people. I never told anyone of his Gift because it was not my secret to tell, not because I ever thought of his as dangerous,” she turned to Jack with a solemn, wise expression.

“He has done the things that he has done with utmost respect of privacy and dignity and he did it all to help and protect and defend us. Ianto would never intentionally hurt anyone here, nor has he ever looked in someone’s mind who had not at first consented. Not unless he desperately needed to.”

Unfolding her arms with a deep sigh and fresh tears in her eyes, Toshiko sat down, comforted by the heartfelt look in Jack’s cerulean gaze. An unspoken agreement to keep Ianto as safe as he kept them went through the majority of people there, Gwen still alone in her beliefs, but somewhat mollified after each team-member’s impromptu speech.

“Well, this is certainly cozy,” came a soft, dulcet, Welsh voice from behind them. Ianto’s cheeks were flushed a healthier pink, his hair mostly dry and eyes sparkling with both loving amusement and anxious fear. Owen’s cream sweater, slightly too big for him, hung loosely on his muscular shoulders, revealing a strip of porcelain white skin but the black dress trousers fit snug in all the right places.

Owen snapped into action after gaping at the telepath for a second, leading him still very gently - Ianto made a face at it, but Toshiko could tell he was grateful - to the empty spot between Tosh and Jack. He wrapped a soft blanket around Ianto’s shoulders, feeling pleased with himself when Ianto shivered slightly and hugged the blanket tighter around himself.

“Er, I left the- the, erm, wet clothes in the bathtub,” Ianto stuttered, but saw Estelle wave off his concern with an unconcerned gesture paired with a sweet smile. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry, my dear.”

Jack slipped a hand on Ianto’s shoulder blade as the telepath struggled to get comfortable, bringing his knees up onto the sofa. Pausing suddenly and looking up nervously to face Jack, Ianto picked up on Toshiko’s calming assurance that Jack did in fact trust him.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked softly, his tone affectionate and tender and only meant for Ianto. Gasping silently as the pleasant sound washed over him, Ianto nodded deliriously, lost in Jack’s azure eyes. Worriedly searching Ianto’s face for clues to say he was lying, Jack moved his hand away, shuffling closer when the Archivist looked upset and panicked.

“Really?” Jack asked again, at the same time Tosh questioned in his mind. Affirming it for both of them with a tired smile, Ianto rested his head on the back of the sofa, facing Jack but grabbing at Toshiko’s hand blindly under the blanket.

“What are you?”

“You already know that, Jack,” Ianto murmured, uncomfortable talking about his Gift now that Jack actually knew what he was. But Jack only pouted, fingers itching to stroke down Ianto’s face, easing out the worried wrinkled and pressing a kiss to everything of interest that he was allowed to.

“I want to hear it from you. Tell me, Ianto?” It was the quirking of his lips, the honest, too tender, too warm look in Jack’s gaze for him that convinced the Archivist to repeat the words.

“I’m Gifted. I’m telepathic,” Ianto said, before he reiterated frantically, “But I would never go looking in your mind if you didn’t want me to, I-I-I would never hurt you, you have to believe me, please-”

Jack shook his head, one arm wrapping awkwardly but enthusiastically around Ianto’s torso, supporting Ianto’s entire shuddering frame with one hand and half of his lap. “I know. I know, Ianto, don’t worry. You won’t hurt us, and we won’t hurt you. I promise,” Jack whispered against his temple.

“You could tell what I’m thinking right now, then?” Jack asked playfully, but the intention was clear behind his unconcerned facade. Of course Jack would be a person who needed a demonstration. Out of the corner of his eye, Owen noticed Gwen silently lean forward, eyes fixated on the pair as Ianto moved to better show his power.

Lifting a hand to Jack’s temple - which was more for the sake of feeling Jack’s skin under his hands rather than the need when entering someone else’s mind - Ianto focused on the other’s thoughts, swimming in them for a second before pulling away. He hadn’t recognised how close his and Jack’s lips were, nor how entranced their audience was. Jack, meanwhile, still had his eyes closed, lips turned in a half-smile, trying to chase after the warm, pleasant tingling which reminded him of scents like ginger and rosemary and lavender.

“They’re a bit of a jumble right now. No clear t-thought,” Ianto explained, his voice surprisingly low and husky. Clearing his throat nervously, he removed his long fingers from Jack’s flushed face, trying to shift away when he saw Gwen’s hard stare locked on him.

“Oh? That so?” Jack asked, but it wasn’t out loud - Jack’s perfect lips hadn’t moved, he was in Ianto’s mind, his voice silky smooth and low and delicious but Ianto couldn’t take more of it. Suppressing a sharp noise like a grunt of discomfort, Ianto dipped his head into the crook of Jack’s neck, breathing his musky scent in deeply; the familiarity grounded him.

Toshiko, tensed with worry, gave Jack a warning look, which he nodded apologetically at, fingers lightly caressing Ianto’s hair. “Too much?” he whispered against Ianto’s cheek, pulling away from Ianto’s mind. And God, although the feeling was foreign and sent tingles down his spine, Ianto was addicted to it, craved it now that it was gone - but Jack was right. It was too much, everything about this situation, from the fingers in Ianto’s hair, to the shortness of breath earlier, to the stony glares from Gwen to the transfixed, enthralled gazes of the others, everything was too much.

“Baby steps,” he mumbled, breath hot on Jack’s neck. After a second more of enjoyed reprieve, Ianto leant away, wiping his burning face with his shaking hand. With an annoyed huff that immediately drew his attention, Gwen stood up testily, her arms folded once again.

“I think you owe all of us more than one explanation, Ianto. How do I know that you haven’t been checking through my mind? Everything in their is personal, you know. And don’t get me started on-” the woman began, the entire force of her fury directed straight at the poor, fearful telepath, but she was cut off abruptly in the middle of her rant.

“Later, Gwen,” Jack warned with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Yes, I think we all need rest. Do you have anyone to look after you tonight, Ianto?” Owen interrupted, attempting to defuse the tension in the room. It worked, but only because Gwen had stormed out, phone in hand to call a taxi rather than have to sit with Owen and Jack in the SUV.

Ianto glanced warmly at Tosh, who smiled at him, squeezing his hand in affirmation. “My house is only about two blocks, but I’d rather Ianto stay out of the cold. Would you mind driving us?” She flashed Owen a brilliant, winning smile, and the latter nodded with a small grin of his own, fiddling with the keys in his pocket before standing up.

“Make sure that you’re well wrapped up tonight, Ms. Cole, and if there is any trouble,” Owen dug in his pocket for a pen and scrap of paper he knew he kept in there (for other less innocent occasions), “do not hesitate to call me. You’ve been through a tough time tonight, there’s no reason to feel weak to ask for help,” Owen finished kindly, and Estelle beamed at him.

“Thank you, Owen. And please, call me Estelle. You’ve looked after my boys well enough to call me by my first name,” Estelle replied, eyes flicking briefly to where Ianto and Jack were sitting. Swinging his legs out from under him and discarding the blanket (neatly folded) on the coffee table, Ianto walked forwards as well, not able to see Jack’s overjoyed expression as he gathered Estelle in a hug.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, Estelle. Thank you for defending me before, with Gwen. It really meant a lot,” the telepath whispered in her ear and Estelle pulled half away, gazing with her wise eyes into Ianto’s own.

“She was an utter imbecile to say any of those things about you Ianto. Thank you for coming to rescue me - I don’t know what I would have done without you. And Ianto...your team love you very much. Don’t ever forget that,” Estelle murmured, her expression knowing and pleased. Owen and Toshiko’s protectiveness was clearly evident and so was Jack’s attraction to the Gifted.

And then, finally Jack stepped forward to wrap his arms securely around her middle, kissing her forehead sweetly. An apology for all the pain he’d caused her that night ded on Jack’s lips as he saw Estelle’s cool face. “You are very lucky to have someone adore you as much as Ianto does. I know that you’ll make the right decision in the end, but please don’t hurt him. Or yourself, for that matter. I love you, Jack, but your self preservation skills need some work.”

“I love you too, Estelle,” Jack said, not commenting on her previous statements. Nothing needed to be said because Estelle seemed to know everything already.

Parting ways with one final, tender look, Jack turned on his heel, following Ianto, Tosh and Owen - his team, his friends, the people that he loved - out of the door and into the SUV. As much as he hated the fact he was leaving Estelle alone, he knew that she was strong and slipped Gary, her next door neighbour who was almost sickeningly sweet and nice, a text to see if he could check on her every so often.

Clambering into the driver’s seat with Owen behind him, Jack glanced at Tosh and Ianto with a grin. “Ready to go?” he asked, smiling when Ianto’s head slowly reared up, his body slow to respond and ridiculously adorable. “Yep,” Ianto mumbled groggily, head falling back to rest on Tosh’s shoulder. Jack didn’t feel jealous seeing the easy affection between the two, too high from having Ianto safe and alive, having Estelle safe and alive to be at all negative.

With Toshiko’s quiet directions, he drove them the short distance to her house, climbing out with them with a gesture to show ‘one minute’ when Owen groaned good-naturedly. Tosh had her keys in the lock by the time Jack caught up with the sleepy pair, waving a quick goodbye to Toshiko, followed by a just as quick but very tight and very warm hug.

“Night, Jack,” the tech said softly, beaming at Ianto whilst she pulled away and then glanced pointedly at Jack as if to say ‘don’t mess this up’. Allowing them their space, she disappeared upstairs, kicking off her shoes and preparing to fall into her soft bed.

“So…” Jack began awkwardly, but it looked like Ianto had something on his mind.

“Thank you, for the way you acted today. It was really helpful and I know it must be hard to trust me since I lied to you for so long, but I promise I’ll explain it all for you one day,” he said lightning fast, in a small, shy voice that had Jack stooping down closer to hear.

Risking the contact, Jack pulled Ianto into another hug, preening when the younger man melted into the embrace, tucking his head into Jack's neck (it seemed to be a habit of the Archivist’s) and sighing with pleasure. “I look forward to when you can explain it to me,” Jack replied simply, not wanting to delve into emotions when Ianto seemed to only want to pass out for at least six hours.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Ianto whispered, pulling away and stepping in through the threshold. Smiling softly, Jack returned, “Goodnight, Ianto,” in an equally soft, tender voice, his grin not fading when Ianto blushed and closed the door with a soft click behind him.

But even with that closed door, Jack knew plenty of others had opened for him and Ianto.


	5. Janto have Heartfelt Conversations™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh, the spaces between paragraphs is hella large, it looks super weird, i'm sorry

 Ianto didn’t come in the next day - Owen had stayed with him throughout the entire day, and although knowing that nothing was wrong with Ianto anymore, was still horrendously worried for the Archivist. It was around twelve when Ianto finally woke up, his body still trying to repair itself from the damage done last night. Tempted as he was to shift into his natural form to try and allow his human body to recuperate better, Ianto didn’t risk it, knowing that Owen would probably come over to Toshiko’s house to check on him.

 

 They’d shared an early, simple lunch from the cafe down the road, Ianto chewing methodically and boredly, barely even tasting the food he was so lost in thought. Owen, the man who sat across from him invested in his sandwich, had revealed his secrets (and now that he thought of it, so had Tosh).

 

 But Ianto didn’t feel as furious as he thought he would have. He would never have been ready to tell Jack his secret identity willingly, as much as he insisted to Toshiko that one day he would; the telepath was almost grateful that it didn’t have to have come from his mouth, at least for the first time. Besides, the circumstances portrayed Ianto as a hero - even though he didn’t like to bathe in the light of glory, it felt nice that Jack had found out about him when he was doing something good with his Gift.

 

 “I’m not going to say that I’m sorry because I’m not. You’d have died if I didn’t tell Jack, and he deserved to know,” Owen said calmly, setting aside his food slowly. Ianto felt a sudden bristle of irritation on his skin, about to lash out before he completely registered the words. What he’d been about to say (something along the lines of ‘you don’t get to decide what Jack does and doesn’t know about me!’ followed by an angry storming out of the room) dissipated and Ianto found himself agreeing.

 

 If Ianto had any chance at a relationship, platonic or otherwise, with Jack, he’d have to be 100% honest. And it was hard, really hard, to think of Jack’s brightly beaming face morph into one of confusion and rage and fear because of what Ianto was, but the telepath knew that the immortal would never look upon him in that way.

 

 “Thank you for saving my life,” Ianto replied instead of a rambling mess of his jumbled thoughts. Satisfied, Owen gathered their rubbish and binned it then glancing quickly at the clock above Tosh’s fireplace. It was nearing six o’clock, when Tosh said she’d be back in from work (and only two hours after traditional work hours ended, which was an achievement for the workaholic tech).

 

 “I’ll be off now, there’s only so much of your ugly mug I can deal with in one day,” Owen said light-heartedly, earning a small chuckle from Ianto’s lips. Nodding to the telepath in lieu of goodbye, Owen was away, leather jacket wrapped warmly around him, his laptop (which he had worked from all day, trying to find out who the fairies’ Chosen One was and having no luck) and other necessities in his backpack.

 

 A gust of cold wind blew in from the door before Owen closed it quickly, leaving Ianto alone with nothing but his own mind and the strange reality television shows that were on at this hour. Without much consideration, Ianto opted for his own mind.

 

 His eyes were falling closed before he could stop them - he was terribly tired, even though he’d only been up for a few hours. Ever since the fairies debacle, Ianto (although he hadn’t had much time to sleep and test his theory) had been plagued with the most horrendous cycles of exhaustion, then sleep and then the bolting awake at least twice a night because of nightmares filled with small, cackling beings.

 

 When he awoke again, it wasn’t because of his own misfortunes. No, Ianto discerned the target as he was frantically pulling on his shoes, sparing a peek at the clock - 6:45, Toshiko should be home by now, but her car was still not parked up front - before stepping into the frosty air.

 

 He headed for the Hub, thoughts of men and rose petals, Estelle’s wide, scared eyes, his own body sprawled on the floor and deprived of oxygen wading in his mind. Ianto’s shoes might as well have caught on fire given how quick he was speed-walking, still too groggy and half-asleep to feel anything but worry for his captain.

 

 “Ianto?” Toshiko called to her empty living room not ten minutes later. “Where have you got to this time?”

 

* * *

 

Jack was drowning his sorrows in whisky when Ianto came barrelling in, his shoes slipping across the floor in his hurry. The Gifted’s eyes were wide and his pupils were blown with worry, smelling of the crisp dusk air outside mixed with the salt clinging to his clothing like anyone’s who worked by the quay.

 

 “Ianto?” Jack called the to skittish, nervous man, moving to stand up to greet him, but ultimately confused as to why Ianto was there. He had been ordered to stay off work that day, what could have possibly brought him to the Hub, especially since everyone but Jack had alright left?

 

 Oh...Jack was slowly adjusting to the idea of Ianto being telepathic, and perhaps the young man had been digging through his mind and found the memories of that night in Lahore, 1909.

 

 “I-I...I was asleep, I-I just couldn’t, couldn’t help seeing your, erm, thoughts, I didn’t mean to invade like that,” Ianto stuttered out, arm folded protectively over his chest and clutching at his opposite elbow as if it were paining him. Jack’s heart broke at the sight, knowing from the all too familiar look in Ianto’s eyes (God knew he’d seen it in almost every man, woman or child on Boeshane) that he was terrified, anticipating the reaction of the other man anxiously.

 

 “I was just...worried about you. I’m gonna, I mean, I-I should go,” Ianto added, waving nondescriptly behind him to the door.

 

 Dumbly, Jack only stared at him, his expression blank as he took in Ianto’s halted movements. “Wait,” he finally said, as Ianto was actually turning away. The telepath spun around, eyebrows tilted in both concern and panic. “Have a drink with me?” Jack murmured, pointing to his own glass of amber, fiery whisky.

 

Shaking his head with a smile, Ianto replied, more relaxed now, “Owen says I should stay away from alcohol until my throat heals up more. Apparently, I’ve torn it up a bit - makes eating and drinking a pain.” Jack chuckled, chest still aching at the thought of Ianto being hurt at all.

 

 Disappointed that the Gifted wouldn’t be staying, Jack prepared for a night on loneliness, about to turn back to his drinks cabinet in search of something with a higher concentration of alcohol, but Ianto’s voice stopped him, soft and hopeful across the frustrating distance between them. “I could stay for water though if you’re still offering.”

 

 “One water it is,” Jack acknowledged, his steps carefree and light and rather smug as he went to find a glass for his companion, gesturing to the sofa across from them in welcome. Ianto grinned and sat down, laughing at Jack’s swaggering walk as he filled him a glass of water. Grabbing his own on the way back, Jack handed Ianto his drink, clinking his own against the side of Ianto’s with a cheeky smile.

 

 A comfortable silence stretched between the pair, both of them content to simply drink and watch each other, eyes dancing past eyes, focusing on pretty lips and high cheekbones and a jawline to die for - meeting each other’s eyes would be game over, and that was no fun at all.

 

 “I’m sorry for seeing your memories. About Estelle and your men on that train,” Ianto said, finally breaking the silence. Jack nodded absently before his brain caught up with Ianto’s words. If Ianto had seen his memories, surely that meant…?

 

 “So you know, then? About me not being able to…” Jack trailed off, wincing inwardly at the thought of his affliction. He didn’t want Ianto knowing his secret, especially considering that the Doctor, one of the wisest men he knew, always had called him wrong. He didn’t want Ianto to have to see him as wrong, ever.

 

 But there was nothing but acceptance and adoration (the latter which Jack didn’t pick up on, being as oblivious as usual) in Ianto’s solemn gaze. “I’ve known since...well, since Suzie. I’m sorry that I never told you,” Ianto whispered, his voice tiny and genuine.

 

 Jack only smiled, taking a long drag of his whisky and relishing the burn at the back of his throat. “No more secrets between us, hmm?” he muttered, not quite as playful and insincere as he tried to sound. Gazing intently at the immortal, Ianto nodded seriously, his eyes whirling with a darker shade of blue.

 

  “Where did you and Estelle meet?” Ianto asked abruptly, taking a sip of water. His eyes were soft as he thought of the elderly woman, so very pleased that he had managed to save her last night. Jack smiled fondly, thinking back on the time, of Estelle’s gorgeous face; she was younger then but still just as charming.

 

 “In London, at the Astoria Ballroom, a few weeks before Christmas. She was 17 years old and she was beautiful. I loved her at first sight. Nothing lasted back then. Promises were always being broken. For Estelle - and you - to have to almost die like that… I came back for her a few years ago, told her that the Jack she fell in love with was my dad. I don’t know if she believes me, I’m awfully affectionate. I still love her as much as I used to, but not...not in the same way.”

 

 Grinning, Ianto rested his head on the sofa edge, chuckling in all the right parts and remaining neutral and sympathetic in all the others. Jack turned his head awkwardly to look at him, before shifting to a more comfortable position which had his arm over the side of the sofa, almost brushing Ianto’s forehead, and his knees pressed against the other man’s. It was a quite intimidating pose and had it been anyone else, Ianto would have felt the stirrings of fear, but all he felt was protected.

 

 “But you saved her-” Ianto began before Jack shushed him.

 

 “No, you saved her. And I am eternally grateful for it. Thank you for being the way that you are,” Jack murmured softly, resisting the urge to stroke his fingers comfortingly down the side of Ianto’s saddened but determined face.

 

 “Well, then, you saved me. You still save me, every day and so many other people too. And...I promise to you, no matter what, Estelle with have the most peaceful of passing. I will make sure of it and I’m sure you will too.”

 

 An indescribable, tender warmth spread through Jack’s chest and he breathed in sharply, tears prickling at his eyes at Ianto’s heartfelt assurance. What he had done to deserve even the company of the man in front of him was completely beyond his levels of intelligence to understand. Licking his lips anxiously, Jack glanced down at Ianto’s own, his obsession with tasting and feeling that incredibly soft looking rose-pink flesh coming back full force.

 

 Noticing the avid attention on his face, Ianto nervously covered it by looking down, mind searching through anything that he could possibly say to ease the tension. “Tosh said that you said you’d seen those petals before. W-where was that?” he asked stupidly, immediately berating himself for choosing the worst possible conversation topic.

 

 But Jack’s demeanour didn’t change much; in fact, he seemed to move closer, more protectively toward Ianto, causing Ianto instinctively to fall forwards into the other man’s embrace, burrowing his cold nose into that abundance of warmth. Running a hand down and then slowly back up Ianto’s spine, Jack shifted their legs to get them both more comfortable.

 

 After fidgeting slightly, he began, voice cracking ever so slightly as he hugged Ianto tighter, terrified that if he let him go now, he’d lose the telepath forever. “We were on a troop train, 1909. 15 men, with me in charge. Everyone happy. Too happy. Too noisy.”

 

 Ianto thought back on his vision of a uniformed group, Jack sitting a way off watching his men laughing, dealing cards, talking, a fond, concealed smile on his lips. His hair was different then, more slicked back, and his eyes brighter, more lively. Ianto despaired that he’d never see this version of Jack again, but couldn’t help cling closer to Jack. He enjoyed his current edition of Captain Harkness, thank you very much.

 

 Jack stiffened as the memories hit him, taking a sip of whisky to stall talking. Sympathetically, Ianto nosed against Jack’s flesh and caressed his tense arm in an attempt to distract. But Jack needed to get this out, so Ianto let him.

 

 “Then we hit a tunnel.” In the darkness, the sound of wings. “We thought some birds had flown in through an open window. Then came the silence,” Jack said, his voice cracking and expression numb. Ianto eased away the knot in his shoulder with a tender touch, pleased when Jack paused to lean into it, accepting to offered comfort with a tighter hug of his own.

 

 “Then when we came out of the tunnel, all 15 men were dead.” Sunlight filtering back through the slatted sides of the train. As Jack said, the memory showed all of his men slumped, murdered with rose petals bulging from their mouths. “They’d been suffocated. My squad. Men I was responsible for.”

 

 Ianto’s stomach lurched at the sight of past Jack’s face terrified and bewildered, glancing around at the train at his squad. Of course, he would blame himself for their deaths; it was exactly the reason Ianto loved and pitied him - his selflessness, his courage in the face of danger. His humanity.

 

 “No one deserves a death like that,” Ianto whispered, and judging from Jack’s shuddery, vulnerable, trusting intake of breath, it was the right thing to say. “But why? Why were they killed, Jack?” he asked, not to try and make Jack think back to their deaths, not to torment him, but because he needed to know for the sake of keeping his team and his friends safe in the future.

 

 Sighing, Jack explained, his voice full of hatred for the creatures that had caused his loved ones - and himself - so much pain. “About a week earlier some of them had got drunk, drove a truck through a village, ran over a child, killed her. That child was a chosen one.”

 

 Silent, Ianto moved in Jack’s hold, wrapping his arms better around the other man. Jack shifted until they were almost lying down, spooning together as the Hub powered down automatically, machines whirring in the otherwise quiet night.

 

 After a few moments of bliss, Ianto glanced up at Jack, his eyes half-lidded and speaking lengths of his exhaustion. “I should probably get going,” he murmured reluctantly, huffing out a small laugh when Jack pouted.

 

 “Just...just another minute. You’re warm and comfortable,” Jack pleaded, holding Ianto tighter and wrapping his legs around one of Ianto’s own, effectively trapping him. Nuzzling closer, unsure how far he could actually take this before they stepped into a realm where they needed to discuss whatever the hell their relationship had become in a few short days.

 

 Ianto was so complacent and pliant that he almost fell asleep slumped against Jack, getting to the point where Jack’s natural pheromones made his head loll to the side in relaxation and his limbs to become jelly, moulding to the shape of Jack’s own body, fitting them perfectly together. He was only roused by the sudden blaring of Jack’s ringtone.

 

 Groaning, Jack pulled his phone from his pocket, hands bumping against Ianto’s body, making the other man blush profusely. As Jack answered the call, Ianto sat up, realising suddenly how close they were. Embarrassed, he tried to shift away, but Jack went rigid beside him, his arm tightening around Ianto’s shoulders, so he stayed.

 

 His face was one of irritated concern when he hung up the phone. “Gwen?” Ianto guessed correctly based on Jack’s exasperated but worried tenseness. He nodded.

 

 “The fairies broke into her and Rhys’ flat tonight, trashed the place. She wants me to come over right now,” Jack muttered, rubbing his face sleepily. Heart clenching with compassion, Ianto stayed quiet for a bit, blushing when Jack gazed down at him, reluctant to leave.

 

 “Go.”

 

 “But-”

 

  “Go, Jack. She’ll just be more angry if you don’t,” Ianto said, voice full of disdain for the Welshwoman. But, there was no way he wanted Gwen in danger because he didn’t want to let Jack  leave his spot plastered to Ianto’s side. “If not now, then at least in the morning. She’s just scared.”

 

 Sighing, Jack stood up, his movements heavy and slow. “You’re incredibly wise,” he complimented, grinning when Ianto smiled shly. “You can get home okay? I could give you a ride? Gwen’s apartment is on the way to Tosh’s, so it would be no issue…”

 

 Ianto couldn’t imagine how awkward it would be on the car journey to Toshiko’s, but he didn’t want to subject himself to it for the sake of science. Wishing he could give Jack a sweet kiss goodbye, Ianto shook his head in declination. “I’ll be okay. Thanks, Jack.”

  
 “Take care of yourself,” Jack murmured heartfeltly, before following Ianto out of the Hub, long greatcoat swaying mesmerizingly in the cold wind outside behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack didn’t end up going over to Gwen’s flat until the next morning - whilst waving Ianto off, and starting up the car, a sudden heaviness weighed down on his bones, his eyelids drooping closed. Exhausted as he was, having not slept for three days because he was so invested in the case, Jack fell asleep in the SUV and awoke with a stiff neck and a head full of regrets.

 

 Seventeen messages from Gwen and nine missed calls spurred him into action; the immortal knew that the longer he kept Gwen waiting, the more irritable she would become, and considering he hadn’t had his daily dose of Ianto’s quite fantastic coffee, Jack wasn’t caffeinated enough to put up with it.

 

 Gwen was armed with a bin bag in her hands and a scowl on her face when Jack finally turned up. Taking in his surroundings, Jack couldn’t help but feel pity for the fuming Welshwoman, the need to help and comfort her almost overcoming him. But he was angry at her still for the stunt she had pulled when Ianto and Estelle had almost died; speaking of, seeing the mess the fairies had made of Gwen’s home terrified him because, Jesus, they could have done so much worse if anyone had been in the flat. Two nights ago had proved that the fairies weren’t above murder.

 

 Watching as the woman cleaned her trashed flat, boyfriend nowhere in sight other than the many photographs hanging up (‘or not hanging up’, Jack mused, noting the precariously balanced picture frames on every surface Gwen could have put them. There was broken glass on the floor and Jack immediately felt grateful for the thick-soled boots he had on.

 

 “In the whole of my working life, I have never had to bring the bad times home with me. I have never had to feel threatened in my own home,” Gwen snapped, punctuating each word with a rustle of plastic as she roughly tied the bin bag between her bent knees. Sympathetic, Jack hummed under his breath, a low crooning intended to comfort.

 

 It had the opposite effect.

 

 Gwen straightened up and Jack recoiled slightly at the fury behind her glare. ‘Well, lucky you,’ Jack thought spitefully in regards to her previous words. Admittedly, he was jealous that Gwen even had a home, a boyfriend, a family to go back to every night after work, someone to love and protect unconditionally (and to have them return that love). But Jack knew he was being childish - ‘Gwen is simply stressed’, he tried to convince himself.

 

 “But not anymore,” Gwen continued in a deadly, venomous tone, ”because this means these creatures can invade my life whenever they feel like it and I am scared, Jack.” Glancing up at her only at the woman’s confession that she truly was afraid, Jack felt a flair of tenderness and compassion towards her, about to go over and try to console Gwen.

 

 But Gwen went and opened her mouth again and Jack became stony once more. “What chance did Estelle have? What chance do any of us have?” Shaking his head, both because he didn’t know the answer and because, Jesus, Gwen just had to bring that up so soon after he almost lost Estelle (and Ianto too, for that matter) for good, Jack wandered over to Gwen’s oak table.

 

 “And Ianto-” Gwen began, and Jack felt hope in his heart. Surely this would be Gwen worrying about Ianto as much as he, anxiously awaiting Jack’s update of the telepath’s condition, terrified for Ianto’s chances as much as her own?

 

 “Why are you trusting him? He’s not even human!” The answer, evidently, was no. Gwen couldn’t give two shits about Ianto - Jack felt torn between the pair. He knew that he couldn’t go on loving Ianto if he kept someone like Gwen on his team, knew that he must make a choice between one or the other. But Gwen had such an allure to her, and she was so very much like Rose. He couldn’t lose the only tie he had left to the plucky London-girl, he refused to.

 

 “What about Torchwood One’s tagline? ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours.’ Ianto is an alien, meaning he belongs to us-” Gwen snarled, causing Jack to turn to her with an enraged scowl. How dare she? “We are not Torchwood One, and we never will be. Ianto is our teammate and friend, and we have no reason to lock him up. We don’t even know if he’s alien, his kind have been here for millennia,” Jack growled, eyes cold and stony.

 

 “But he’s a danger to the team, don’t you see that?”

 

 “How?” Jack questioned, his voice dangerous and low. He hoped that Gwen would get the hint and leave Ianto out of her arguments, but the ex-PC persisted.

 

 “He brought that thing - Lisa, or something - into the Hub, who almost killed all of us,” Gwen said, arms held open wide as if to ask how the hell Jack didn’t see the damage Ianto was causing to Torchwood. Pinching the bridge of his nose to try and alleviate the stress, Jack replied steadily, less angry this time because he had also felt furious and confused with Ianto’s actions until they were explained to him.

 

 “Ianto had no control over his actions and even if he did, he brought his friend into the Hub, because he was trying to help her!”

 

 “He is a telepath, Jack!” Gwen cried, her eyes wide and doey, pleading with him to understand. “He could unearth any of our secrets and use them against us.” Although he wanted to answer, wanted to lean over the upturned coffee table and spit in Gwen’s face that Ianto would never betray them, Jack stayed stoic and unspeaking.

 

 Sighing in defeat, Gwen folded her arms and changed the subject, voice haughty and demanding. “What did the fairies want in my house?” Jack didn’t say anything for a while, staring at a spot above Gwen’s shoulder, contemplating the best way to phrase it. There was no way in Hell, though, that he would be telling Gwen the story of his men in Lahore.

 

 “These creatures protect their own - other fairies… and the chosen ones,” he muttered finally, going to cross his arms but realising that he would be copying Gwen and stopped abruptly. Turning away as she spoke, not wanting to see the confusion and fear on her face, Jack fiddled with something on her littered table.

 

 “You’ve mentioned the chosen ones before. What are they? How many are there?”

 

 Jack almost scoffed, surprised that Gwen had even remembered what he had briefly said about the chosen ones. Her voice was steady too, but wavered every so often, betraying her fear and the tears that she had hastily wiped from her eyes as Jack had turned away. Numb after their heated argument, completely burnt out, Jack didn’t say anything, too exhausted, too sick and tired to bother.

 

 “Tell me, Jack!” Gwen screeched, and then looked down, her eyes wide with shock at herself and terror that this would cause Jack’s patience with her to come to an abrupt end.

 

 Instead, the American simply complied to her wishes, still not turning around to meet her gaze. “All these so-called fairies were children once. From different moments in time, going back millennia. Part of the lost lands,” Jack explained, a lump rising in his throat as memories flashed back to him, of his men in Lahore, yes, but also of every missing children posters he had ever seen and remembered. How many of them had been taken by the fairies?

 

 “Lost lands. What?!” Gwen said, her voice reeking of disbelief. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if she thought he was going crazy, or if Ianto had put a spell on him or something.

 

 “The lands that belong to them.”

  
 Gwen fumed, struggling valiantly to stay calm and not shout again at Jack. He was a charity case for her now, something easy to mould into what she wanted, a shell of the man she once knew. ‘I have to be gentle, or Jack won’t do what I need him to do, or need him to say,’ Gwen told herself, moving closer to the captain.

 

 “What exactly do they want? Why are they here?” she asked, her voice quiet and soft, as if she was trying to becalm a wild animal. Jack gritted his teeth, picking up on it. He spun around to meet her stare, startling her in silence.

 

 “They want what’s there’s. The next chosen one.”

 

* * *

  

 “I wanna check on all the unexplained deaths in the area, anything like what Estelle and Ianto’s would have been like,” Jack murmured as both he and Gwen climbed up to the meeting room. He was speaking more to himself than her, and although the tension between them had all but dissipated, Jack felt a sick pleasure in seeing her flinch when he mentioned the Archivist.

 

 When they walked into the room, Jack was met with the sight of Toshiko typing lightning fast on her computer, the weather program she had created running on the large screen. What caught his attention, however, was Ianto, half asleep and resting on Toshiko’s shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and eyelashes fluttering with Ianto’s every attempt to stay awake. Judging from his exhaustion and the dark circles under his eyes, Ianto had slept even worse than Jack.

 

 The Asian woman nodded in greeting, dislodging Ianto slightly. Jack felt a flicker of irritation that the telepath would ignore his order to stay home that day, to ensure he was fully capable of reinvesting his time on missions, but it was replaced with the knowledge that Ianto would never stay home during a case. Admittedly, Jack was selfishly rather relieved he would be able to spend anymore time with the Gifted, despite knowing that he should cajole Ianto into leaving.

 

 “What’s the weather forecast for today?” Toshiko asked quietly, directing her question to Ianto, who seemed more awake now that he felt Gwen’s hectic thoughts and Jack’s smooth, almost ocean like presence in his mind.

 

 “Long sunny spells,” Ianto answered, his words slurred, and face scrunching as he opened his eyes to the bright lights overhead. Jack found it adorable.

 

 Noticing the pair in the room, Ianto jolted up, rather guiltily rubbing a hand over his tired features as he wobbled on his unsteady feet. Jack smiled gently at him, causing the Gifted to flush, before turning his attention to a concerned Toshiko. “It’s happening again,” she said, confused. The map on the large television zoomed in to the cause of the disturbance.

 

 A severe gale hung dangerously over Coed Y Garreg Primary School - Jack vaguely remembered passing it a few times, but he wasn’t as well versed in the winding streets of Wales as the natives were. But fear clenched tight around his heart - the fairies were putting children in danger, but for what reason?

 

 Toshiko continued tapping away at her computer, lip stuck in between her teeth as she tried to figure out the weather patterns. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before, which upset her. Beside her, Ianto fidgeted, his urge to help and urge to understand battling with one another. His urge to help won out and he was about to entice Tosh away, but Jack’s authoritative, restless tone beat him there.

 

 “Just leave it, let’s go,” he ordered, sliding past Tosh with the SUV keys in one hand and his coat in the other. Sighing, Toshiko followed him, Ianto close on her heels. Jack’s face twisted with displeasure and he paused Ianto, throwing the car keys to Toshiko with the command to start it up.

 

 Ianto glanced down at the hand Jack had splayed over his chest to stop him from moving, and then to Gwen and Toshiko’s retreating forms. Chewing his lip, feet bouncing restlessly, Jack looked down at him with a saddened, pleading expression.

 

 “You’re not well enough. You should stay here and get some rest,” he said lowly, but Ianto knew him well and to him, at least, the immortal was atrocious at lying. Understanding the real reason, Ianto went rigid, upset that Jack was once again putting Gwen above him. He had hoped that they were over this point.

 

 “Don’t insult me, Jack. That’s bullshit and we both know it,” Ianto replied, with no real malice at anyone but Gwen.

 

 Eyes softening, Jack pulled his palm away from Ianto’s chest to rest at a friendly, non-threatening pressure at the telepath’s shoulder. It still made Ianto flinch ever so slightly, and stare at Jack’s hand, almost fixated on the immortal’s calloused fingers. His gaze snapped back to Jack’s eyes as the other man started talking again.

 

 “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Jack started. “Because I do, you know that. It’s just…”

 

 “Gwen doesn’t,” Ianto finished for him, his eyes falling down to Jack’s chest because it hurt to much to look him in the eye. It hurt that Jack twisted him and the rest of the team every which way to try and make Gwen bloody Cooper comfortable.

 

 “Yeah. I...this mission is really important and I don’t want to risk messing it up. I can’t have this tension at the moment,” Jack answered and Ianto had the childish need to ask why he was made to stay and not Gwen. Berating himself forsch petty thinking, Ianto tried to meet Jack’s scrutiny, proud to have reached as far as his captain’s neck.

 

 “I know things seem terrible at the moment, but I promise you, things will get better. I will work this out, you won’t ever have to hide again. Trust me,” Jack murmured, but the way he said ‘trust me’ was phrased like a question, voice needy and vulnerable.

 

 Jack wasn’t sidelining him, Ianto had realised. In his own stupid, stupid way, Jack was trying to keep him safe, and the thought, along with Jack’s words had Ianto’s eyes snapping up to meet Jack’s. The immortal’s bright gaze was pale and pleading, begging for Ianto to understand, begging Ianto to actually trust him, even the smallest bit.

 

 “Trust me?” Jack repeated, and it was a question this time, weak and reedy and it hurt so badly to hear.

 

 Ianto, as usual, went above and beyond Jack’s expectations.

 

 Grasping Jack’s hand, which was still at his shoulder, but clenched tightly now, Ianto answered. “Unconditionally. I trust you unconditionally, Jack, and I always will.”

 

 Jack’s fisted hands relaxed, allowing the circulation back into Ianto’s limbs where Jack had been holding them. His face broke out into a shy smile which Ianto couldn’t help to return, all thought of danger wiped from his mind as Jack bent forward slightly so that their shoes were brushing.

 

 “Jack!” Toshiko called out frantically from the levels of the Hub below them and the spell between Ianto and him was broken. “Hurry up!”

 

 Jack straightened up and backed away quickly from Ianto, hoisting his coat up and over his shoulders. “Stay safe,” Ianto mumbled, moving over to Toshiko’s still open laptop, with nothing to do except monitor the field mission. Jack nodded, pausing on his dash out the door.

 

 “As soon as this is all over, we’ll talk, okay?” he said, reluctant to stay any longer whilst people’s lives were in danger, but too caught up in the schoolgirl-in-love feeling to fully leave Ianto. The Archivist nodded with a small smile, and Jack reasoned that it would have to do, racing down to where Tosh was impatiently waiting.

  
 Ianto had the idea that they’d be talking about a lot more than just his place in the team now.

 


	6. Janto Dies, Janto Lives! Janto Dies Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was not my initial plan for this chapter. it got hella sad. y'all thought that it was finally gonna get gay as hell, janto were gonna be together and super in love, they'd adopt three dogs and a child, but ha, nope
> 
> the next fic is going to be an interlude, it will feature a lot of heavy, deep conversations between jack and ianto and also jack and estelle (hopefully, i haven't figured it out completely yet) and ianto and estelle. estelle is the number one janto shipper, tbh

New weather patterns showed as Jack neared the address listed under Jasmine Pearce’s file at the primary school. Kate, the teacher, had seemed confused when Jack asked her for it, but the immortal assured her with his best winning smile that it was simply as precautionary measures, to ensure the protection of all of her students. It had certainly kickstarted her dawdle to the office computer.

They were speeding down Old Forest street when Tosh alerted him frantically of the change in weather in Jasmine’s area. “Jack, it’s happening again! Over Jasmine’s house, she’s definitely a Chosen One.”

“Jack, hurry!” Gwen cried, grabbing onto the car door handle with a huff when Jack actually did speed up, the SUV jolting down the road and parking in the flower bed outside of Jasmine’s home. Kicking open the SUV door, Jack registered the dark, dangerous storm clouds hanging depressingly overhead.

It was an omen to Jack and to all who knew what they were looking for. The Mara were definitely there.

A sudden gust of wind howled past the trees as the team raced in, screams filling the air. The Mara were clearly visible past the fleeing guests, moving like grasshoppers, bounding across the ground; one leapt towards the retreating guests, herding them away. “Come on, move. Go, go! Get out!” Jack yelled over the sound of the wind, several people turning to glance at him, the only rock in the storm, the only place to shelter from safety. 

They ran and the garden was left empty for the fairies to do as they wished. Tall, emaciated limbs broke off from the fairies’ heaving, sickly green torsos. Small wings fluttered on their backs, and their piercing glares bore right into Jack’s soul. Terror filled his heart, but also anger, the need for revenge. 

Jasmine was in the corner, by a cluster of trees and hidden just out of sight from Jack. She was smiling. Meanwhile, ‘Roy’, according to Jasmine’s mother’s screams, was surrounded by a few Mara perched in the trees above and one cornering him, dancing tauntingly around him.

The single fairy attacked, swiping ineffectively at Roy and the mother screeched, moving to help. Tosh grabbed her by the arms, holding her away, but Lynne fought, her face dry but pinched with fear. Gwen’s fist clenched in Jack’s coat, and he resisted the urge to shake the Welshwoman off. Now wasn’t the time for a petty feud. 

Another fairy smashed through the wooden fence on one side of the garden, drawing Jack’s attention for the split second it took to have the other fairy attacking Roy push him roughly to the ground, unmerciful even as Roy screamed. The Mara was relentless as the innocent man struggled, positioning its hand over his mouth and...plunging it forwards until it reached almost up to its shoulder, clawed hand pulling at Roy’s intestines, scraping against his sensitive insides.

Jasmine laughed.

The sound drew Jack’s attention again, and another Mara leapt in front of him and Gwen. Scrabbling for a tight, spiked grip around Jack’s neck, the fairy clung to his side, trying to gain leverage to better attack him.

Unimaginable fear blazed through Jack’s mind, but it wasn’t his own. Confused, Jack stumbled backwards, not in his right mind when a sudden shock sent him sprawling to the ground. The Mara lost it holds and bounded away, Gwen’s body leaning next to his own. Had Jack been with it, he would have thanked the ex-PC but the new presence in his mind, the one he wasn’t able to discern right away until it hit him, he couldn’t focus properly. 

Ianto wasn’t ready for telepathic contact with Jack, and they both knew it. But having felt the second-hand pain and fear streaming through their Link, Ianto had initiated communication in a form of a sharp, direct burst of energy. It wasn’t completely foreign to Jack, he had certainly felt Ianto’s emotions before, but he’d never been aware of it, and they’d never been this strong.

Jack was pulled back into the real world as Lynne screeched for her daughter, struggling against Toshiko’s strong hold. With a grunt of pain, Jack hoisted himself up, whirling around in time to see Jasmine retreat through the hole in the fence after the Mara. Roy was on the ground, dead.

Screaming, Lynne broke away, racing over to her partner, howling her sorrows to the sky. Breathing hard, Jack tried to clear his mind. The case wasn’t finished yet.

Gwen followed him through the hole in the wooden fence, her hair a mess and eyes watering. They found Jasmine not too far out, her back facing them, but Jack could imagine a serene expression upon her face. Sincerely, she said, “Do you know you’re walking in a forest?”

She turned to look at them, her eyes old and wise and too bright for what she had just witnessed. Jack sensed that he was looking not at a little girl anymore, but a Chosen One. “Well, you are. It looks like a very old forest, and it’s magical. I want to stay in it.”

No! Jack couldn’t just let her, he couldn’t allow Jasmine to become a fairy when she had no idea what it truly entailed. It was a strange dynamic between the pair - Jack was a man out of his time, and Jasmine was a girl who had the potential to be the exact same. To never die. To never age. To travel through time and see civilisations burn, and families torn apart. 

“You can see this forest?” There was a flare in his mind, a warning from Ianto, and as much as Jack would have usually relished the contact, the idea of someone in his head sickened him for the time being. 

“Yes,” Jasmine replied stoically.

“But it’s not here. It’s just an illusion, Jasmine. It is. Your friends are just playing a game with you,” Jack reiterated, even as Jasmine adamantly shook her head no. His voice got louder, and he stared into the trees; the immortal was addressing the Mara as much as he was Jasmine.

“The real forest can never come back,” Jack said, every scrap of knowledge he had found about the fairies trailing through his aching mind.

“Oh, it can. When they take me to it,” Jasmine replied resolutely, and Jack felt Ianto’s agreement through the strange, not quite formed Link that they had. It hurt that Ianto was in assent with the fairies, but as Jack mulled it over, it was the only thing Ianto could have done. His kind had been at war with the fairies for centuries - surely he knew about their rituals, knew about the danger Jack was putting himself in.

“They told you this?” asked Gwen, and Jack’ s gaze snapped down to where she was kneeling by Jasmine, eyes darting up every so often, terrified of the fairies. Jasmine nodded and Gwen tried to smile brightly, but the petrification stark across her features made it distinctly unbelievable. “But what about your mother? Don’t you want to stay with her?”

Jasmine shook her head silently and Gwen’s face fell, upset that her attempts at keeping Jasmine with humankind had failed. A chittering from the Mara above them had her jumping back, scared. Jack took her place by Jasmine’s feet.

“The child isn’t sure,” Jack snapped at the fairies, even as Jasmine protested, along with Ianto in his mind. Ignoring them both, Jack grabbed Jasmine, pulling her close, protectively. She gazed up at the Mara, falling silent, but not docile. “Leave her alone. Find another chosen one!”

“Too late. She belongs here,” the fairies spoke in unison, their voices lilting and entrancing. 

“The child belongs here!” Jack cried harshly, defiant of Ianto’s pleading to let her go. ‘If you make her stay, thousands of people, millions even, will die. The fairies will never stop on their rampage once they are refused what they believe to be rightfully theirs. I should know,’ Ianto’s voice drifted through Jack’s mind and he choked slightly. 

Feeling Ianto’s emotions and hearing his mental voice were so much different. It was an addictive sensation and Jack focused on only it for a split second before looking at the bigger picture. Ianto had been so terrified of mental contact two days ago, and now they were having actual conversations in their own minds. Surely, he must be telling the truth, then? Surely, there was a reason for his terror?

Barely registering the rest of the Mara and Gwen’s argument, other than the confirmation that yes, the fairies could turn the world to ash or throw them back into the Ice Age, Jack finally decided. Ianto had said that he trusted Jack unconditionally and with the last spur of a desperate ‘please’ from the telepath, Jack decided to return that trust. 

Swallowing hard, he glanced up at the fairies. Still unhappy with the decision he had to make, he asked, “The child won’t be harmed?”

“Jack, you can’t!” Gwen cried, and her voice made him all the more stubborn. It was either Jasmine or the entire world. Part of his job was to make hard decisions and this was one of those hard decisions.

“Answer me! She won’t be harmed.” 

“We told you. She lives forever,” the Mara crooned and despite it being a shit answer, Jack needed no more encouragement. He released Jasmine - there was no point in trying to save a child that did not wish to be saved. The Mara flew down from the trees, this time as innocent, twinkling lights. 

Gwen screamed, sprinting forwards to try and grab Jasmine, but Jack held her back, snarling, as angry at himself as he was at her, “You asked me what chance we have against them for the sake of the world - this is our only chance.”

Jasmine turned to them as she skipped away, beaming face only for Jack. “Thank you. Both of you,” she said, with the Maras' voice, and Jack knew she wasn’t talking about Gwen. Lynne, the girl’s mother, suddenly appeared behind them, sobbing her daughter’s name and dropping to her knees in utter despair. She’d lost everything. 

Toshiko and Owen jogged up behind her; Tosh skewered Jack with a questioning look and he nodded in answer to her unspoken question. Yes, Ianto had helped. Satisfied, Toshiko turned to Lynne, having no way to comfort her but the promise that things would get better.

“I am so sorry,” Jack whispered, and Lynne turned her tear soaked face to Jack. She had no one to blame but him, but she didn’t have the strength, nor the energy to fight him as she grieved for the loss of her partner and her daughter, all in the space of ten minutes.

‘Tell me, Ianto. Tell me this was the right decision,” Jack thought harshly, his tone bitter and biting even to him. 

Ianto never replied. 

-

Gwen left as soon as they reached the Hub, her face stony and enraged. Jack said nothing to justify his actions - there was nothing else he could have done, and everyone but Gwen seemed to realised that. As soon as she was gone, Owen glanced at him with a stern expression. 

“Both me and Tosh can tell that Ianto talked telepathically with you. We know that look and we know how it feels. And we also know that the circumstances weren’t so pretty, but I swear to God, Harkness, if you take this out on him if you hurt him-”

“I won’t,” Jack interrupted. Owen seemed to relax beside him, his eyebrows turned up slightly with sympathy. “There was nothing else I could have done, but...had Ianto not been there, helping me, the world could have been destroyed. I don’t think that I would have made the right decision had he not been there,” Jack continued, mind flicking back to the threatening question he had asked the telepath before they had cut off their connection. He hoped desperately that the situation between them could be rectified, even whilst they both grieved over the loss of a girl they’d never even met. 

Shuffling up to the garage entrance to the Hub, Jack glanced behind him, expecting to see his teammates following. But both of them stood by their respected cars, a sad look on their faces. They were giving themselves time to think about the case as well as giving Ianto and their captain some privacy.

With a nod of assent from Jack, Owen slid into his car, but Toshiko stayed put. Confused, Jack looked at her and she fixed her knowing gaze on him. “He needs support right now. I have no idea what you said to him, but he completely closed himself off. Make this right, Jack,” she said, and Jack knew what she was alluding to.

“Now isn’t the right time for a love confession,” Jack answered, nervous and restless.

“When is going to be the right time, then? You both deserve love, more than anyone else I know, and you won’t settle for it unless it’s from each other. Please, Jack. Tell him. Let yourself love him, so he can love you back twice as hard. When you get his love back, you will fucking know about it and you will do everything in your power to fight for it, or else you never deserved it in the first place.”

“But as I said, you do deserve it,” Toshiko murmured heartfeltly, unlocking her car. There was silence for a second, of the pair staring each other down. Tosh could pinpoint the exact second Jack made up his mind and she smiled softly, getting into her car as Jack raced into the Hub.

It was a mad sprint in, Jack frantically calling for Ianto. He was ready finally, he really was, and by God, he wanted to be able to show Ianto levels of affection he’d show any of his lovers. Receiving no answer from the telepath, Jack bounded up the stairs to the second level of the Hub.

Ianto wasn’t there. In fact, the Gifted was nowhere in the first two levels of the Hub. He’d hidden away in what should have been the Archivist’s office but was now his safe haven when the millions of people, emotions, thoughts in his head became too overwhelming. Despite finding him easily on the infrared sensors (Toshiko had disabled the cameras in the office, knowing Ianto wouldn’t want people seeing him so weak), Jack didn’t go down to the room.

Ianto didn’t want to see him. Ianto didn’t want to see anyone, really, but especially not Jack. He didn’t want to move from the pile of blankets he was nesting in, he didn’t want to face the world and he didn’t want to feel how sorry Jack was through their Link.

“Well,” Jack said to an empty room, “I’ve really fucked this one up.”


End file.
